


(Pas) Peur

by jostcn, minycrd



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Riko Moriyama is alive, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Kevin Day, Blood and Violence, Heavy Angst, KandrEIL OK. KANDREIL, Kevin Day deserves love & happiness, Kevin goes back to the nest, M/M, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Jean Moreau/Kevin Day, Past Relationship(s), Protective Andrew Minyard, Protective Neil Josten, andrew quit smoking, do you hear me, kevin is sober, they all do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2020-10-18 04:44:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jostcn/pseuds/jostcn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/minycrd/pseuds/minycrd
Summary: Kevin Day is sinking and he barely knows how to swim.





	1. Chapter 1

Kevin can feel the tightness in his chest and the burning at the back of his throat as he gasps for freedom. The water fills his lungs, blackness dancing along his line of vision to remind him that he’s dangling from the edge of reality and a nightmare.

Kevin can feel this because it is Riko that is next to him. Because it is Riko’s hand that is suffocating as it clamps down on Kevin’s left wrist. Because it is Riko’s smile that reminds Kevin of the devil. Because it is Riko that is not afraid to take away everything that Kevin cares about in the blink of an eye. 

He should not be afraid of his brother. But he is. 

(He always has been.)

Kevin pushes away every last memory of bruises and number tattoos and a broken hand, pushes away every last memory that rises to the surface because it is the only way he knows how to survive. 

“Oh, Kevin,” Riko snarls in Japanese, and Kevin’s feet are planted to the ground with no promise of removal, “did you really think your win against us in the championships meant you would no longer see me?”

Kevin doesn't reply, doesn’t know how to. He wants to run, but there is nowhere to go, no way to escape. He isn’t Neil, can’t find the courage to stand up and tell Riko everything that comes to mind, and he doesn’t know how to use his legs to leave. He isn’t Andrew, who doesn’t give a damn about Riko’s power and place in the world. He is Kevin Day. He had been trapped in Riko’s shadow for so long, and the minute he had been free, he was going to fall back into his place of not being good enough all over again. 

“I am here,” Riko says with a tap of two fingers to Kevin’s temple, then drops his hand to press it against Kevin’s heart, “and here. No matter where you go, no matter what team you choose, I will always be a part of you. I made you to be who you are today. I believe that you should be more grateful, do you not agree?”

“My mother made me who I am, as did my father,” Kevin replies faintly. His head tells him to avoid defying Riko in the slightest, but he can’t stop himself; he covered the “2” on his cheek with the chess piece for a reason. “I have achieved everything I have wanted because of them.”

Riko sneers, and it’s water to kill the small flame of rebellion inside of Kevin. “You may have won the championship, but you were never worthy of your NCAA Division I title. You will always be second best, and I will make sure of it. You are coming back to the Nest to be put into your place. You will not tell anyone where you are going. We will be waiting for you on the bus after this pitiful event and you will train with us. I think that you can still be on the Perfect Court. I am sure Nathaniel and Jean will not hesitate to train with us in the future as they were supposed to, yes? Maybe we can also get your pet Andrew to come along? Or perhaps your dear father, for moral support?”

Kevin’s resolve cracks, crumbles, and he can’t maintain it the same way he did on Kathy Ferdinand’s show. This is Riko, with no audience to play nice in front of. This is Riko, with no one there to hear him but Kevin in the empty bathroom. This is Riko, and Kevin understands him as well as he understands himself, so he manages to nod his head. “I will go with you.”

Because no is not an option. If he says no, he is as good as dead, but he knows that he is dead either way. Riko doesn’t know about Kevin and Jean’s past, or about Kevin and Andrew’s. Riko doesn’t know that Kevin stays up late on the rooftop with Neil and Andrew and cigarettes replaced with warm mouths. Riko doesn’t know, because if he did, Kevin knows that he would find a way to punish Andrew and Neil too, and they had already suffered enough. He’s underestimated Riko before; at this point, he knows how far his brother is willing to go, the extent and measures he‘d take to ensure that he got everything he wanted. Kevin swallows the lump in his throat. He can’t be with Neil or Andrew ever again. He doesn’t get liberty in the Nest; he is there to play only. 

“Good.” The grip on his wrist loosens, and Riko disappears. Kevin craves his mouth to be able to inhale and exhale correctly, and for a bottle of vodka, but he doesn’t have an opportunity to obtain either. 

He doesn’t even notice Andrew’s presence until the five-foot goalkeeper appears in the mirror behind him, and Kevin jumps. 

“Keep breathing like that and we’ll have to get you a ventilator,” Andrew says, arms crossed and head tilted to the side. He examines Kevin, and he knows how to do it better than anyone. His entire outfit is black, from the suit jacket to the tie to the socks and shoes on his feet. He is a savior, but no knight in shining armor. “I saw Riko leave a few minutes ago. I’m assuming he terrorized you in some way.”

Kevin shakes his head, whipping it around to face Andrew. “Do you have any alcohol on you? I need—“

“— to calm down,” Andrew interrupts, his usual passive expression not betraying anything other than apathy. “I am not going to be the one responsible for your relapse. I don’t have all night to stand here, so instead of begging me for something you know I will not give you, why don’t you tell me what Riko said to you.”

“Nothing,” Kevin whispers, but it’s a lie that neither of them believe. “He did not say anything. I’m fine.”

“I didn’t realize Neil entered the room,” Andrew says, reaching out, hand lingering inches from Kevin’s face. “Yes or no?”

Andrew curls his fingers around Kevin’s chin after a nod of approval, and Kevin appreciates that the touch is and never has been as harsh as Riko’s. Andrew squeezes, and his thumb taps against Kevin’s jaw to get his attention. “I agreed I would protect you, remember?”

_ I want to stay. I’ll ask you again: don’t let him take me away. _

_ It'll be fine. I promised, didn't I? Don't you believe me? _

This is different; Kevin knows that. He is alone and will be alone in the Nest. There is no Andrew to promise safety, no team that sticks together like family to support him, no Jean to bandage him up. 

“I need some fresh air,” he says, and it is enough for Andrew to break the physical contact, enough for him to understand that the yes is now a no. Kevin wants to say more, but he also wants his father to not feel guilty, needs to say at least something so he won’t regret it. His mouth closes, then opens again. “Tell Coach I know what I am doing.” 

He pushes his body off of the sink and out of the bathroom before Andrew can let out another word, shoving the doors of the locker room open and storming out of USC’s Exy court. Andrew doesn’t follow, nor does Kevin expect him to, but he wonders what will be running through Andrew’s head when the Foxes all pile onto the bus for the hotel before the second day of the banquet, only to see that Kevin isn’t there. 

Kevin shivers, but the surprising chill of the September night isn’t what's making him cold. He wills his hands to stop shaking and approaches the Edgar Allan bus. Riko greets him with his usual vicious smile and yanks on Kevin’s jersey so roughly that Kevin topples to the back. Riko cages him into the last seat, letting out a laugh. “Don’t worry, your Raven jersey has been well taken care of, and will be returned to you upon our arrival to the Nest.”

Kevin doesn’t bring himself to reply, and for once, Riko doesn’t push it. They have a seven hour drive ahead of them, but as tired as Kevin is, he doesn’t trust himself to sleep, not with Riko right beside him. He presses his head to the window, trying to get his mind, which races a mile a minute, to slow down. He thought that leaving Riko behind and making a new life for himself with the Foxes at Palmetto State University had made him brave, but he’s more terrified than before, because he had been with Riko at his worst once, and that had led to a broken hand. 

Kevin wonders what it will be like this time.

(He knows that he won’t survive it. Not again.)

—

He’s been a heavy sleeper since he joined the Foxes; they don’t wake him up at the crack of dawn and keep him up all night with rigorous practice. He’s been a heavy sleeper, but he jolts awake at the whine of the bus coming to a stop. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all, but he sits there, blinking the fuzzy spots out of his eyes to see Riko standing over him with his arms crossed. “I was thinking about letting you sleep a few hours this week, but it looks like you already made the decision for me. I hope you had fun, brother.”

Kevin inhales. Exhales. 

He struggles to breathe again, but the unenforced violence from Riko on the bus finally takes effect. Riko clenches his hand around Kevin’s neck once they get off, smiling at the choked laugh that comes out of a throat with little air. “I cannot wait to watch you suffer.”

Kevin recognizes the delight in Riko’s black eyes, like a child with a toy he hasn’t played with in a while, wanting to test it out again even if the toy isn’t quite the same. Kevin and Riko may have been obsessed with each other for their entire lives, but Riko is the one that always has to win, whether it’s by fair or foul play. 

“Kneel,” Riko says, and Kevin does. He bows his head and attempts to regulate his breathing, but it’s only a few seconds until Riko takes his chin, tugging it upward so Kevin meets his gaze. “I am to remind you that you have no rights here. You did not before, and you do not now.” 

Riko turns nonchalantly, using a key card to open the gate. Kevin takes it as his cue to follow and steps into Edgar Allan with one hand gingerly touching his neck. The blackness of the university, save for the red row of light from the ceiling, is nauseating. It drips from the ceiling and onto the floors, into each player, until darkness is what fills the void inside of them. Kevin remembers it, remembers the emptiness and the loneliness even with Jean. 

“We may be based upon a pair-based system, but the only one that will get punishment is you,” Riko grins as if he hasn’t just summed up what the rest of Kevin’s life will be. “You remember the system, yes?” 

Kevin nods, because there is a burning in his throat, a wildfire, because his mind is going back, back to when he was paired with Jean after his and Riko’s rivalry became graver.

_ Kevin doesn’t know what‘s happening until he crashes into the ground, skidding across the concrete floor from the force of the impact. He doesn’t have time to react and gets back onto his feet after Riko’s check during the scrimmage; it all happens too fast. His hands are scraped from trying to gain leverage, and he‘s sure he‘s sporting a head injury because the pressure and the stars behind his eyes are too much. _

_ By the time he refocuses, Riko is already helping him off of the court floor, a bloodthirsty smile on his face. “Practice is over,” he states firmly. No one questions him. The Ravens file out and to the locker rooms before they split up to go to their rooms in the separate dorms. “Jean, make sure I didn’t break a bone or two in Kevin, all right? It would be a tragedy to us all.” _

_ Jean Moreau shakes his head, casting a glance at Kevin. He wears a “3”, prominent on his pale and angled cheekbones with the stark contrast of his dark, hickory-colored hair. Kevin knows little about him, other than the fact that his family owes the Moriyamas money, and the only way they could pay it off was by sending their son from France to West Virginia. Jean snaps out of his gaze, casting his attention back on the boy splayed across the court floor. “No,” Jean mumbles, clearly still trying to figure out whether or not Riko shoving Kevin had been accidental or purposeful. _

_ Riko smiles cruelly, patting Kevin on the back as he saunters towards the locker room, making Kevin even more unsteady. Jean’s feather touch on Kevin’s forearm aids his balance and prevents him from falling over. Jean helps him sit on a bench in the locker room once Riko is gone, leaving momentarily to grab the first aid kit he left in his locker. Kevin reckons he‘s been sitting there for ages before Jean returns. He kneels in front of Kevin with an ice pack, his voice so low that Kevin can barely hear it. “Can you hold that to your head for me?” _

_ Kevin’s skull throbs in misery, and the drum that thumps against it certainly didn't help, yet he obliges and watches Jean meticulously work. He pulls out some antiseptic and applies it to the scrapes on Kevin’s hands and knees, muttering out a _ désolé _ when Kevin winces. _

_ “What does that mean?” He asks. A laugh bubbles in the back of his throat and threatens to fall out of his mouth because he’s tired, so tired, but sleep won’t be rewarded to him. _

_ “ _ Désolé _ ,” Jean repeats, applying the bandages to the open wounds. “It means “I’m sorry.” _

_ “Will you teach me?” Kevin murmurs, and he barely knows the boy facing him but he wants to, needs to, because this kindness is the only thing stopping him from passing out. This kindness is foreign, and he wants to keep it for as long as he can. _

_ “Every night,” Jean says without hesitation, because maybe he needs this kindness too. Kevin’s heart squeezes in his chest so tightly that he winces again; he doesn’t know what this feeling is. Jean’s hand ghosts over Kevin’s own, and he takes it, pulling it aside gently to inspect Kevin’s head. “You have a concussion. You should not be playing.” _

_ “I have to,” Kevin whispers, but all he wishes to do is sit and have Jean hold his hand, just for another moment. If this is hell, maybe he can get a glimpse of heaven if only for a brief moment. _

_ Jean doesn’t argue, and Kevin discerns that he can’t, because they are not free. He squashes whatever emotions are inside of him, because there is no point in trying to gain access to unattainable hopes. _

_ “Kevin.” _

“Kevin,” Riko snaps, seizing the PSU Jersey into his hands. Riko’s breath is warm against his skin, but not comforting; it has given Kevin third degree burns. “I will not ask again.”

Kevin obeys, pulling the jersey off only for it to be snatched again by Riko and torn to pieces. Kevin’s cry dies in his throat, and he wants nothing more than to sew it back together, wants nothing more than to be with his family. He stares at the remains of his happiness for as long as he can before Riko shoves his past back at him. The Raven jersey holds him down like lead, and he’s sinking deeper and deeper in this icy water when he barely knows how to swim. It won’t be long before the bubbles of air don’t come out of his mouth at all.

Riko proceeds to walk again, presumably to the court. “It fits perfectly, just as it has before. You were always meant to be a Raven, despite everything. You will make Court solely because you are here. You never would have made it with the Foxes. Do you realize that, Kevin? That you were never supposed to stop being a Raven, even with your broken hand? Do you realize how much havoc you wreaked when you left?”

“I’m sorry,” Kevin replies automatically, because it’s what Riko wants to hear even with his inability or desire to accept the apology. 

“Are you?” Riko asks once they reach the locker room. His fury is evident, has been this entire time. “You are the one that recruited Nathaniel Wesninski to your team when he too was destined to be a Raven. Being a Fox caused him to believe he had the right to mock my team incessantly, and disrespect the master. Your blonde pet almost broke my forearm at the championship game all because I threatened Nathaniel— or Neil, as you call him. Do you realize what kind of team you created, Kevin? You were the captain of a team of nothings, of nobodies. You were a captain for people that didn’t deserve to be helped.”

It isn’t true. None of it is. Kevin understands the Foxes, better than anyone. They are the reason he stayed and the reason he trained day and night to be able to play again after he thought he never would. They all went through hell but still managed to come out of it with all of their scars and say “fuck you” to everyone that thought they would never make it. Kevin understands this, understands his family and wants to defend them, but he can’t. He can’t force the fight to push past his lips, because fear is his reality. Fear is the snake that takes hold of his spine and tightens its grip when he even considers speaking up. 

Instead, Kevin bows his head again, ashamed. Riko takes it as a form of agreement and shoves a racquet into Kevin’s hands, flipping on the lights of the stadium. “It will be just you and I tonight. I want to see if you are still as good as everyone says you are.”

He barely has time to get a decent handle, because in the next second, an Exy ball flies towards his face. Kevin crashes the ball against his racquet instinctively, watching as it soars to the other side of the court. Riko dodges it and hits another one to him, again and again and again. Kevin may have played a full game against Edgar Allan nine months ago, but after the Exy season had ended, he hadn’t played for more than two hours at once one-handed.

By the time Riko calls for an end, Kevin’s left hand screams for mercy; he can’t clench it into a fist without feeling the nerves in his forearm tingle; Riko had refused to let him switch to his right hand. 

He flicks one glance at Kevin and props his racquet against his shoulders, making his way to the locker room. He calls out without turning, “Clean up your mess.”

Kevin spends the next couple of hours sweeping and polishing the court floor. By the time he reaches the showers, he’s lost all feeling in his left hand. The only thing he’s grateful for is the privacy as he washes his hair and aching body. He knows that this would be the one time that he was alone, but he also knows that he will only be able to savor it for a few more minutes before Riko comes looking for him. 

He turns off the faucet and changes into the clothes that Riko had given him, ones that he hadn't worn in three years. They fit the same, and he rushes to his room to find Riko sitting on his bed, reading Kevin’s pictures on the wall. His stomach turns the moment that he realizes that nothing has been changed in the room. Everything was left the way it had been when he left the Nest. It‘s some sort of sick relic for Riko’s pleasure. 

The switchblade in Riko’s palm makes Kevin stop dead in his tracks. Every instance the weapon has been used on him brings bile up to his mouth. Riko hasn’t said anything at all, but Kevin heeds to the silent demand and lies down on the bed, reaching his hands up. Kevin grips the wooden headboard in the same place that Neil had held on to last December. Kevin feels the handcuffs lock his wrists into place, making his left hand even more sore than before. 

Words clamber up his throat, settling onto his tongue, but Kevin doesn’t let them push past his teeth. The only thing he can manage is to tug against the restraints, ignoring the bite of the metal cuffs on the tender skin of his wrists. Riko had always held himself back from hurting Kevin too much in the past, but now there’s no reason for him to do so. 

The tip of the cool blade slips under the skin of Kevin’s tricep, and Kevin can’t hold back the scream that erupts from his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “2”. Second best. Kevin is nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ trigger warning: past sexual assault, torture, mentions of past abuse ]

Kevin’s thoughts trail back to Andrew, of how their nightly fooling around was supposed to be nothing, that they were nothing and then they weren’t; then they were feeling something other than lust no matter how hard they tried to deny it. Kevin thinks back to Andrew, and he holds onto the guarantee of protection, letting himself fall to his knees in the moment of weakness. 

_ It‘s almost midnight. Twelve hours ago, Tetsuji Moriyama announced in a press conference to the nation that Kevin had broken his dominant hand in a skiing accident and would never play again, forcing him to leave all four of his teams including the Ravens. Kevin has been publicly shamed and deemed as nothing, an assistant coach for one of the worst Exy teams of the NCAA. What no one knows is that it‘s his only option. The need to see his father runs bone-deep, but this new way of living still holds his sense of survival. If he joins Palmetto State, at least he will see his father once before he dies. _

_ The panic builds in his chest, but the weight of Andrew’s promise is heavy, and Kevin clings to it like a magnet because it‘s the only thing stopping him from running back to Riko and begging for forgiveness. _

_ “You aren’t asleep,” Andrew says. He stands in the doorway of their room, watching Kevin, who watches the news and the headlines with his name attached to them. “Practice is tomorrow, and we all know how important that is, right? You can’t afford to lose your beauty rest.” _

_ Kevin is too worn out to come up with a retort, so he shrugs his shoulders and turns the TV off, staring at his own reflection. He sees the shadow of a man. His cheekbones and jawline are sharp, the bags under his eyes protruding with his pale complexion. There are no mirrors in the Nest; the only time has seen himself are in photos from Exy magazines. “You aren’t asleep either.” _

_ “No rest for the wicked,” Andrew replies. “What’s your excuse?” _

_ Kevin tries to understand, but a logical answer doesn’t make an appearance. Relationships have always been like Exy with him; he wants to win, wants to see his hard work pay off and see things with no complications as they are. _

_ No, Andrew isn’t Thea, isn't just a week-long fling. Andrew isn’t_ _fighting to compete and be on the same team. He isn’t pushing Kevin to be a stronger person. No, Andrew isn’t Jean. He isn’t a companion that kisses every bruise away on Kevin’s body with false promises that things will get better. He isn’t clutching onto Kevin with a firm grip. _

_ Andrew is a mirage, slipping between Kevin’s fingers until he dissipates completely. He plays a game, but it isn’t Exy; he makes his own rules and to hell with anyone that doesn’t agree with them. He makes promise after promise, guarantee after guarantee, and he cares even though he says he doesn’t, even though his medication makes him look like a sociopath. _

_ But he’s not. _

_ (He’s not a sociopath.) _

_ He’s just a man. A boy. A boy that’s been given up on again and again and has only two people that truly see him for who he is. He’s a monster in some eyes, a waste of time in others’. He isn’t worth fighting for. _

_ Kevin blinks. _He’s worth fighting for. He deserves a future. 

_ “Andrew.” _

_ “Yes, your highness?” _

_ “Andrew,” Kevin says again, because he needs touch and needs the nervous thumping in his heart to calm and he needs Jean’s lips out of his mind and needs Andrew to realize that he’s important and he needs _ something _ . He doesn’t know what he’s doing, and nothing else makes sense except for Andrew. Kevin crosses the room to Andrew’s spot, lowering his head until his face was an inch from the other man’s. “Can I…” _

_ He doesn’t know who kisses who first, but all thoughts of the Moriyamas fly out of the window when Kevin feels Andrew’s lips on his, teeth clacking against teeth; Kevin is pushing against him but Andrew is pushing right back. Kevin reaches out— _

_ Andrew shoves him so roughly that he topples over, and he instinctively uses his left hand to catch himself. A flare of pain shoots up throughout his arm, and he releases a choked gasp in response. _

_ Andrew’s hazel eyes hold storm clouds, lightning ready to strike. He opens his hand to let go of a fist. “No. You do not get to kiss me, because you are not in the right head-space. This isn’t a yes from you. This is a nervous breakdown. I know the difference even if you don’t.” _

_ “I know what I want,” Kevin argues, irritability too much of an effort to hide. He flexes his hand, getting back up but making sure to keep his distance. “If you didn’t want to, you could have just said so.” _

_ “You know nothing,” Andrew says, but it’s hard to determine his level of anger with such a casual stance: hands in his sweatpants pockets, black t-shirt, and armbands never failing to make an appearance, a pair of mismatched socks on his feet. Kevin crossed a line, he knows. He takes another step back to give him space, but maybe Andrew can’t help himself either, because he takes the few steps forward to lessen the distance between them. “I need to know that it is a yes, that it was a yes before this stupid debacle and it will be a yes after things die down. I need to know that this is a yes and not a mental breakdown because right now, that is all that I’m seeing.” _

_ “It’s a yes,” Kevin says, and he stares at Andrew with a hope that Andrew knows that he means it. Andrew is still unreadable, a book that isn’t in any language Kevin’s ever seen. Kevin drops his eyes to Andrew’s mouth again, craving the warmth. “It was a yes last week, it is a yes today, and it will be a yes tomorrow. It will be a yes for as long as you’ll allow it.” _

_ “Then this doesn’t mean anything.” Andrew tugs Kevin’s face towards his, and it’s a strain for him to lean down and for Andrew to lean up, but neither of them seem to care. The heat from Andrew’s lips is enough to keep Kevin safe for centuries, and he knows that what he’s feeling is more than something he can shrug off. _

_ He knows that he should warn Andrew at one point. _

_ (He doesn’t.) _

Kevin is still on his knees by the time Riko calls for the match to commence. He forces himself to his feet and misses the ball by nearly five feet. Riko is already beginning to gloat at his miserable playing, but Kevin is too busy trying to alleviate the fire flaring up in his triceps to pay much attention to it; he just needs to move enough to get by. 

He hasn’t yet been at the Nest for a full twenty-four hours, but he doesn’t know how much more he can take. Going through it once already had been torture. This time, Kevin is in hell. Riko had broken him before, but he’s now bent on causing more damage, on turning Kevin into a thousand broken pieces.

The afternoon practice eventually comes to a close when Riko scores the last goal, making his team the winners with a score of ten to four against Kevin’s. He's coerced into cleaning the court again, and by the time he reaches the kitchen, there is barely enough food left for him to eat. 

He’s tired, but he can’t go home.

His home is Edgar Allan. 

—

The second night in the bedroom starts similar to the first. Kevin waits for the familiar dip of the mattress and for the weight on top of his chest. Riko straddles Kevin’s stomach and handcuffs his hands to the headboard, tracing a finger along the red lines that are left from the night before. The switchblade returns, but instead of adding more cuts to Kevin’s triceps, Riko slides Kevin’s clean t-shirt up and presses the knife to the skin between his ribs.

“Do you remember the first night we started this game?” Riko taunts, the pressure not yet forceful enough to draw any blood from Kevin. He reaches a hand out to jerk on Kevin’s trapped hands and laughs when he hears a whimper. ”We had to make sure that you knew your place.”

”No, ” Kevin breathes, though it’s difficult with Riko smothering him, reducing his air supply and making Kevin a fish out of water.

”Your place was nowhere but second. Nothing. You always have been and always will be nothing,” Riko says, smiling sadistically at the way Kevin tenses underneath his touch. He pushes the blade even harder into Kevin’s side and mocks Kevin’s pain. ”Now tell me, who is your king?” 

”You, ” Kevin whispers. His heart beats so rapidly that he’s sure Riko can hear it, can hear the _ thump thump thump _that won’t cease.

Riko places his free hand against Kevin’s collarbones, at the base of his neck for better leverage and tightens his grip on the weapon. “When it's too much for you, don’t hesitate to scream again.”

—

Kevin blinks awake, glancing around the room rapidly in search of Riko.

Riko isn’t anywhere in sight. Their room is cold, a stepping-off point, perhaps, right before death. Kevin exhales; death doesn’t sound like such a terrifying thing anymore. If there is a way to escape this torture, a way to stop this agony that he just can't seem to shake....

Kevin tries to shift his position, whining softly when the handcuffs rub against the raw skin around his wrists. He can’t escape the Nest, but at least he had been able to move and use Exy as a minor distraction. Now, he can’t even breathe without feeling the wounds along his ribs.

In moments like these, Kevin wishes he was more like Neil. He knows that Neil’s smart mouth is what typically gets him into trouble, but it also aids him with a distraction and occasionally a strategy to fight back. Kevin can’t even manage a single sentence against Riko, let alone physically bring any harm to him. 

He doesn’t have to worry about anything. Riko enters the room with a box in his hand and the switchblade nowhere in sight. Kevin almost sighs in relief, but the comfort lasts for half a second before he sees what’s inside. He sees the CDs, and while he doesn’t know what’s on them, he can only guess their horrors. 

Riko grins menacingly, rummaging through the disks in the box. “You are going to watch all of these at some point. The question right now is which one we should start with.”

Kevin doesn’t bother to gift him with a response, his head too much of a muddled mess and body too achy to aid him in focusing. “Lucky for us, the lounge room is open. We are going to go in there and you are going to watch one of these tapes in its entirety. No closing your eyes, no looking away. You are expected to watch it all.”

Kevin drags his feet to the destination and hesitates when he sits down at one of the tables. The physical torture has been too much, but the psychological is worse; he’s gone through it before, but not with DVDs, not with evidence. “Riko—“

“Sh,” Riko whispers, as if consoling a young child. He picks up one of the CDs at random. Kevin only gets a glimpse of the name, but it isn’t a past video of Riko punishing him; it’s labeled _Easthaven_. Kevin goes still; he’s being being forced to watch Andrew’s abuse. He opens his mouth to object, to cry, to plead, but nothing comes out. Riko presses ‘play’ as if he doesn't notice.

“Stay over there,” Andrew mutters, tugging against the restraints. He twitches violently, blonde hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. “I don’t remember… how did I get here?”

“We’ve been over this, Andrew,” a man answers, who Kevin can only guess as Proust. He feels bile at the back of his throat but can only shudder in response. Proust looks young enough to be at the peak of his career but old enough to be on his way to retirement, dark hair cut short to appear professional and body strong enough to hold Andrew down. ”You wanted this.”

Andrew is too high to realize that Proust isn’t one of his past abusers. He yanks so roughly against the ties around his wrist that Kevin winces at the sight of fresh red lines, seeping onto the pillow. “No, Samuel, I—“

“You wanted this,” Proust repeats in a hiss, climbing over Andrew to pin him down. One hand presses to Andrew’s neck, the other holds a blade against the scars on Andrew’s wrists. He tightens his hold on Andrew’s windpipe hard enough for Andrew to struggle to breathe. 

“Jesse—“

“Say ‘please’,” Proust orders, digging the knife into Andrew’s skin, “then I’ll stop.”

Andrew spasms underneath the unwelcome weight. His eyes hold something that Kevin has never seen before, and never wants to see again; Andrew is slipping away, on the verge of reality and a nightmare he most likely never thought he would have to relive again. “Steven—”

”Say it.”

”Please, ” Andrew gasps, and Kevin watches the panic attack take effect. The knife withdraws from further damaged wrists, and Proust wipes the fresh blood on the bed sheets. Andrew shakes so violently that Kevin is surprised to see that he hasn’t managed to kick Proust off of him.

Proust doesn’t move from his straddling position on top of Andrew’s five-foot frame. ”If only we could have your brother too, AJ. Imagine what it would be like, twins. You and Aaron together, writhing for me. What a sight. I’m sure we could give him a call… see if he’s interested in visiting you.”

“No,” Andrew chokes out, a dying man taking his last breath. “Drake, please. No. Don’t touch him. Don’t touch him.”

Repulsion makes Kevin look away, even though he’s only able to gain a few seconds of solace. Riko abruptly turns his head back to the TV screen so Kevin can finish the tape. ”I told you to listen to my instructions, Kevin.”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” Kevin sobs, shaking his head and closing his eyes to block out the image of Andrew curling in on himself. “I don’t care anymore. Just stop this, please. Go ahead and kill me. I don't care.”

Riko pries Kevin’s eyes open and spits at him. “Stop acting like a child. My goal was never to kill you, it was to torture you, which is why we will be watching one of Neil’s tapes tomorrow. I am sure you will be just as delighted to watch him as you were to watch Andrew today.”

“I’ll do what you want,” Kevin shakes his head and begs whatever god is listening for mercy. He reaches out to grab the edge of Riko’s sleeve and is met with a slap in the face that reverberates in the silent room. 

Riko’s anger has always been white. White knuckles from fingers clenching around a neck, a wrist, a racquet. White teeth that mutter curses to remind Kevin of his place. White is supposed to be pure, and yet… “I will not repeat myself. You will not disobey me or embarrass the master again. You will watch these tapes. You will play on my team. You will do what I tell you to, because you have no choice. The only way anyone from your old team will be safe is if you are here. We couldn’t have a repeat of Easthaven or Binghamton now, could we?”

”I’m sorry, ” Kevin says. There is nothing else to say but he hopes his apology will take some effect. 

His words drip to the floor and dry up immediately. Riko faces him and shakes his head condescendingly. “Perhaps I was wrong. You are too weak to make Court, even as second best. This only proves that you need more discipline. Unless, of course, I break you. Then you are only proving that your mother died for nothing. Do you really want that?”

Want. Kevin wants Andrew to hold him by the back of the neck like he has so many times, to whisper words of comfort in an apathetic voice that betrays his care. He wants Neil to take his hand and hold it when he notices that Kevin is slipping away. He wants the Foxes to be safe and free and never have to experience any more trauma again. He wants his mother’s hand in his hair and lips against his forehead.

Kevin wants to die because he knows that he will never get any of it.

Andrew had made a promise to him and Neil had been the one to help carry it out, but Kevin doesn’t know how long he can hold onto it. He can’t relive the Nest over again. His chest squeezes so tightly that he can’t inhale or exhale correctly. Riko spins and he spins and everything spins and he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe because Riko is there and Kevin aches and Andrew’s suffering and Neil’s suffering is too much, is too real and—

Riko snaps his fingers to get Kevin’s attention. “I do not have all day to sit here and dawdle. Get up. Practice starts in ten minutes.”

Kevin forces himself to breathe and spends the next few minutes forcing air into his lungs and pushing away his memories; he can only focus on his current self. When he gets up again and follows Riko to the locker room, every cut in between his ribs scream. For once, Kevin uses the pain as a distraction.

“If you win, maybe you won’t need any discipline tonight,” Riko grins, then shoves his helmet on before jogging to his spot on the court. 

Kevin changes into his jersey and grabs his racquet.

—

He loses.

—

Sleep does not come kindly, even though Kevin hasn’t stopped banging at its door, even though his hand is splintered and mangled. He gives up, after a while. He stares up at the ceiling and wonders what the others will think when they see him back in the Nest, wonders if anyone will see the damage behind his green eyes and paper-thin smile. He stares up at the ceiling and knows playing Exy will be too much for the wounds on his body. He stares up at the ceiling and wishes for his death to answer the door instead.

By the time Kevin glances at the alarm clock, it’s 4:56 a.m. Another four minutes pass in the blink of an eye, and then Riko is up and the light is on, blinding Kevin. 

Riko doesn’t rush to change but is quick to raise his voice when he sees that Kevin is struggling to get up. “Do I have to dress you, too? Stop wasting my time.”

Kevin holds back a groan as he reaches for the dresser to steady himself. Riko waits with crossed arms and an impatient foot that taps _one, two, three _times against the floor, watching Kevin swap his blood-stained shorts from new wounds for a clean pair of sweatpants. Kevin follows him to the gym and finds it impossible to imagine that he’ll have to lift; he can barely breathe and walk. Riko sends him a murderous glare when they show up to see that the other Ravens have already begun. 

Kevin walks sluggishly to the machines and watches his teammates, barely putting in half of his effort to carry out with the exercises. His eyes focus in on a new recruit who appears a year or so younger than him, currently performing a bicep curl. Kevin watches his muscles jump with each movement and allows himself the distraction, just for a second.

“You disgust me,” Riko says from behind him. He leans closer to whisper in Kevin’s ear, voice taunting. “It is easier to remain heterosexual, remember?”

Kevin’s mouth goes dry, and his cheeks flush as he averts his gaze to the floor. 

“What?” Riko laughs derisively. His hand squeezes Kevin’s tricep to flare the fire inside of him. “Did you think I didn’t know about Andrew and Nathaniel?”

“Riko—“

“I can easily hurt them, Kevin,” Riko says, kneeling in front of Kevin like a father talking to his son. “With a flick of my wrist, they could be dead, or perhaps here with us.”

“They aren’t as good as you and I,” Kevin replies. He doesn't know where the words are coming from, but he forms them as fast as he can. “Neil is quick on his feet but his temper will get the Ravens some bad press, and Andrew will refuse to play for you because he can’t leave his family. You’d have to recruit all of the Foxes to get him to join.”

Riko doesn't hide the revulsion at the suggestion, reaching forward to grip Kevin’s chin tightly. “Then cooperate with me. Your whole team could be killed because of your incompetence, do you understand? You are here to play and nothing else. Nathaniel and Andrew will not come to save you. You can wish and pray for reprieve but you will not get it until you are playing in the Olympics with me.”

Kevin can only manage a nod. 

He allows the hope of Andrew and Neil saving him to dissolve into nothingness.

—

8-7.

Kevin's scrimmage loses by only one point, and while most of the Ravens on his team are grateful for the close game, Kevin doesn't join their excited discussion. Tonight, he made a mistake, and tonight, Riko's fury is black because of it. Black, like the floor of the locker room where a hand and dream were shattered, like the sheets of a bed where handcuffs kept disobedience in check. “Our room. Now.”

Kevin takes his helmet and jersey off, not bothering to note where he puts them. Fear clings to him every step of the way, hitting full force when he reaches the bedroom and closes the door behind him.

“You know,” Riko says, tracing a finger lightly down the blunt side of one of his knives, “I thought that by breaking your hand I had solved this problem. It seems that my efforts have not been successful.”

“You still won, Riko. You’re clearly the better player.”

Riko puts a finger to Kevin’s lips, a command to stay quiet. “Stop talking. I know that I am number one, not you. I know that I am the best player. I made sure of that three years ago.”

“You did—“

“You will stop interrupting me this second, Kevin,” Riko snarls, flipping the switchblade open. He catches Kevin’s left hand and pins it above his head to the door. “It is obvious that I have to show you your place as second best again.”

“Please—“ Kevin tries, and in a second Riko switches the knife around again, slamming the end of it into the palm of Kevin’s hand. He only does it twice, but Kevin feels the familiar throb. He knows that Riko hadn’t broken it, but it’s enough to show Kevin how easily he can.

“That was a warning,” Riko says, releasing his grip and watching as Kevin clutches his hand. “Test my patience one more time and I know for a fact you will never play Exy again.”

Kevin inhales. Exhales. “2.” Second best. Nothing more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only time the sun and moon meet is during an eclipse.

_ The ERC's prediction of the best Exy players was posted last night, and Kevin is ranked first despite being second in Riko's idea of the perfect Court. He should be proud, should be honored that he surpassed every expectation of him, but the uneasiness settles in his stomach, weighs him down like lead. _

_ Riko's lack of words doesn't help. His rage is gray today, like the clouds and sky right before a storm. His rage is gray, like a pot with water bubbling to a boil. He can't be less than number one, Kevin knows this, but someone inferior placed above him? No, he won't allow that. _

_ Kevin waits. And waits. It won't be long before his punishment comes, before the "2" burns his face and his wrists ache. _

_ — _

_ It is two days before Kevin gets his answer. The master's order for a face-off between Riko and Kevin is clear, and Kevin doesn't know whether he should try to win or lose. _

_ He doesn't have to worry. Riko's mood snaps when they reach the locker room. In a flash, the helmet that had been in his hand slams into Kevin’s chin, knocking him backwards and to the floor. Kevin can't see straight, but he can feel the blows from his brother that keep him on the ground. He tries to come up with a way to stop the attack but the pounding in his head makes it too difficult to focus. There's a slam against his side, his head, his back; he stays down and counts _ one, two, three… _ so many seconds until Riko ceases fire. Riko pulls Kevin forward and lifts his head so he can meet his brother’s gaze. Kevin's body is numb, but he can feel the dull ache start, which will get worse and make him deteriorate like a disease. Riko’s breathing is shallow, and his hold on Kevin’s jersey is white-knuckled. “I have worked for my position for my entire life, and you? You are worthy of number one? You are nothing but an orphan. You don’t deserve any of this.” _

_ “Riko,” Kevin whispers, begging because it's the only way he knows how to survive. "Riko, stop.” _

_ Riko growls, dropping Kevin to the floor. _ Thank you, _ Kevin thinks, because it's over. _ Thank y— _ a foot stomps into his left hand, and the ache of his body is replaced with stabbing pain and sobs lodged in his throat. Riko’s shoe drives into the hand again and again, yet Kevin loses track after the third kick. He's dizzy by the time Riko stops, and uses his good hand to ward himself off from further damage, but at that point, he knows it's too late. _

_ “I’m sorry," Kevin chokes, the copper taste of blood burning his throat. He doesn't remember when he had started crying, but his cheeks are soaked with tears and his mouth is as salty as the ocean. He takes Riko’s fist and squeezes. Riko still shakes with fury, Kevin with fear. “Please.” _

_ “You are pitiful,” Riko spits, shoving Kevin away from him. He picks his helmet back up and storms out of the locker room, leaving Kevin a broken mess on the floor. _

_ Kevin can't find the strength to move. Any energy he had is depleted, and he can't slow the tears rolling down his cheeks even though his eyes are muddled and _ it hurts, Mom, it hurts so badly. _ His arm rests above his head, and he won't, _ can't, _ look at his hand. He stays there with his face pressed against the tile for what may be hours before his call is answered. Jean is there, as he always is, kneeling down next to him. “Do you think you can stand?” _

_ Kevin doesn't reply. He remembers his screams from the pain of Riko's shoe; he knows his voice will be hoarse if he tries to speak. Jean’s grip on Kevin’s hips brings him back to reality, guiding him to the bench. Kevin barely hears Jean’s sharp inhale at the sight of his mangled hand, but it still seems deafening in the otherwise silent locker room. Jean takes out the first-aid kit that has been used a thousand times, cleaning up the blood that coats Kevin’s skin. There's nothing he can do about the protruding bone of his hand. “You’re never going to play again, you know.” _

_ Kevin swallows the lump in his throat and attempts to pay attention to Jean rather than the throbbing soreness in his hand. He pushes the fear and realization to the back of his mind but it fills his veins like poison. He speaks, but has to cough a few times for words to come out. “You have to keep him out of our room. Jean… please. Just for a few hours.” _

_ Jean nods, but Kevin can see his hesitation. Whether it's because he doesn't want to leave Kevin alone or because he doesn't want to worry about Riko's wrath, Kevin doesn't know. "I will be back to meet you in your room. I will keep Riko away for long as I can. Wait for me.” _

_ “But—“ _

_ “Do you trust me?” _

_ “You know the answer to that,” Kevin says, wincing as he tries to stand. Jean must realize that there are stars behind his eyes, because he touches Kevin's arm to ground him. “You know the answer to that, Jean.” _

_ Jean disappears from the locker room to carry out the request, leaving Kevin to determine what his options are. _

_ — _

_ Kevin manages to stuff a few necessities in a bag in under an hour. He's almost done, grabbing a change of clothes when he hears something in the doorway. He tenses immediately, like a child that's been caught with his hand halfway in the candy jar. _

_ “You have to go,” Jean croaks, stumbling into Kevin’s room. Kevin looks up from where he's rummaging through his drawers to see Jean’s face dotted with already-forming bruises and a split lip. He limps towards Kevin and reaches out to cup his face. “Do you hear me? You have to leave.” _

_ “Jean—“ _

_ Jean cuts him off. “Riko knows that I was trying to distract him. He is on his way here. You don’t have a lot of time. Go.” _

_ “I can’t leave you here,” Kevin cries, and he knows that it isn't fair for him to be doing so but he can't leave the one source of kindness that has helped him survive. It isn't fair that this is happening to them. “You can come with me. We can… we can go together.” _

_ “You were adopted by them. You are not indebted to them as I am. This is where I am meant to be.” Jean runs his thumb across Kevin’s cheek and wipes the tears away. _

_ “Jean, please.” _

_ “This is my life,” Jean says. He tangles his fingers through Kevin’s hair and leans forward, stopping short to ask a wordless question. _

_ Kevin kisses him slowly, much less frantic than all of the times they had performed this ensemble before. Kevin’s tongue feels the familiar taste of blood and the unspoken goodbye but allows himself to savor this for another moment. Jean's teeth catch on his bottom lip, and it takes Kevin a second to realize that it's because he has to pull away. Jean's head slides to the space between Kevin's neck and shoulder, his body wracked with something that isn't a laugh. Kevin's heartstrings pull harder when he feels his shirt grow wet, one hand reaching to hold Jean closer. _

_ Jean pulls away like he's aflame, shaking his head. Kevin doesn't say anything about his bloodshot eyes and damp face, opting to run his thumb across Jean's bottom lip instead. Jean pushes his hand away but rests their foreheads together. _

_ “We were never meant to be together,” he murmurs in French, and even though the words are true, Kevin’s chest still tightens. “We never would have made it out. But we deserved more than this.” _

_ “I love you,” Kevin pleads, and Jean exhales, taking a step back. Kevin extends his right hand again, to touch Jean's face, to touch the “3” tattoo and only hope that it will not not be there forever. He wants to tell a story where in another life, they aren't in the Nest, they aren't surrounded by the master’s endless demands or the weight of unspoken secrets. “I love you.” _

_ “I know,” Jean replies, but Kevin understands that he is saying “I love you too.” He picks up Kevin’s wallet and jacket, draping the latter over his shoulder. _

_ “I’ll come back for you. I promise," Kevin says, but it is an empty promise that neither of them know can be carried out. “Just hold on.” _

_ “Go,” Jean whispers, stepping out of his way. He leans against the wall for support and offers a fake smile through glassy eyes. _

_ "I'll come back for you,” Kevin repeats. He turns away and leaves the room. He forces himself to continue, one foot after the other, until he reaches the gate. He uses his keycard to open it and looks at the full moon. He wants thunder and rain, wants something other than a clear sky and air to breathe. _

_ It's a double-edged sword; he first learned this phrase in his mythology class, with King Midas. He made a wish, and when he got it, he put a curse on himself and ended up losing what he loved. _

_ Freedom is Kevin's double-edged sword, is his curse. He's waited so long to leave Evermore, but it costed him a broken hand and Riko's tighter hold of Jean. Kevin is no longer trapped in the Nest, but he will never play Exy again, will never see Jean's face without the guilt that comes with it. _

_ He is no longer a Raven. _

_ (But he will never be free. He does not deserve it.) _


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scales are tipping, and there's no going back.

“I warned you,” Riko taunts, his back resting against the wall. He inspects his nails as if they intrigue him, then shakes his head in disapproval. “I warned you what would happen if you pushed me to my limit.”

Number Two watches him for a moment. “I know.”

Riko smiles, slow and pleased. He kneels in front of Number Two and taps his finger against his forehead. “You are expected to play in tonight’s match, I don’t care what hurts. You will go against me, and you will lose.”

“Okay,” Number Two says. He gets up from his bed and allows his left hand to fall to his side, the distorted fingers hitting his thigh. He winces in pain, but it's fleeting. He stands and follows Riko to the lounge room, staring mindlessly at the box as Riko pulls out one of its CDs to insert into the DVD player. 

He checks the mobility of his fingers as he waits, watching them as they refuse to stay in their straight and typical position. Number Two leans back in the chair and yawns as Riko presses ‘play’.

The quality of the clip isn't the best. It seems like Lola had set up a makeshift camera with her flip phone to record everything for Nathan. Number Two doesn't remember how he knows her name, but he shrugs it off as insignificant.

Neil is forced into the front seat of the vehicle, arms pulled harshly around the back of the chair and handcuffed tightly. He tests his movement, kicking his legs and clenching his hands into fists, yet he isn't able to move despite his best efforts.

Lola moves her knife over the soft skin between his fingers, gauging his reaction before cutting shallowly into his palm. Neil tenses and jerks against the cuffs, trying to escape her knife. Number Two watches him bite down on his lip to suppress the wince that the ungiving metal of the handcuffs brings out. “Stop it.”

“Stop me.” Lola cuts a line down his thumb to start, moving on to lacerating his right hand. She changes tactics after a few minutes, her expression one of boredom. She drags the knife along his wrists, slipping it under his skin. Number Two checks the clock for a fleeting moment. By the time he returns to the tape, Lola has leaned the seat so she can look at Neil directly. The blade’s edge presses to the “4” on his face. “We read all about your feud with Riko. What a convincing act! In another life you could have been an actor. Tell me, did you really think his collar would protect you from us?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. I can’t take you before your father with this stain on your face. Rome?”

A man reaches forward to the dashboard, clicking open the compartment. Neil shakes his head rapidly at the appearance of a lighter, struggling as hard as he can against the restraints. Number Two glances at Riko to see his brother picking at his cuticles. 

Neil spits in the man's face. “You’re sick.”

In response, Lola places her knife on the right side of his face so that every time he tries to flinch it cuts him. Neil grimaces as the knife paints a picture, a line from his mouth to his eye.

“What do you think?”

Number Two sees the wildness in Neil’s eyes, the last bit of coolness slipping away. “I think fuck you.”

Lola grins, flips the lighter on. “Don’t flinch,” she said levelly before pressing the lighter against his cheek. 

It feels like forever until Number Two finally snaps out of his trance, until Lola retracts the weapon and returns it to the dashboard. Lola digs her nails into the raw skin on Neil’s left cheek, making Neil cry out sharply. “Better. Don’t you think?”

Number Two blinks. Something tugs at his heart roughly, but he dismisses it. This recording means nothing. Neil is just someone from his past. There is nothing Number Two can do to help him, so there’s no point in getting upset over it. 

Riko watches Number Two, gauging his reaction. When he sees none, Number Two notes his subtle disappointment as Riko picks up his helmet. “Court.”

Number Two nods and almost steps on the back of Riko’s heels several times. Every ball freezes in midair at their arrival, and a few of the new recruits share worried glances because Riko never shows up an hour early for practice. He responds to their stares by slamming his helmet against the wall, lips curving upward at the couple of startled jumps. “We are starting the match now.”

He turns to Number Two and sends him a murderous grin, making his way to the locker room. Number Two trails behind him again, moving as fast as he can to change into his uniform. He pulls his helmet onto his head and jogs to his side of the court, not bothering to yell out any commands to his team. 

A freshman dealer serves the ball, and the game begins. 

—

Running has been difficult enough, let alone using one hand to hold his racquet. Number Two doesn’t let himself complain, not even when his left hand had gets further crushed by a careless teammate.

Number Two had showered, but it had taken longer than he had expected because his mind was preoccupied. When he closes his eyes, all he wants is to stop seeing Neil Josten and Andrew Minyard. They stay in his mind like the plague, but Number Two convinces himself that they aren’t significant; Exy is the only thing that matters. He pushes away every thought of the two Foxes and uncurls his hands from their iron grip on the cotton sheets.

Riko’s touch brings him to open his eyes. Number Two watches as Riko pulls his hands up to the headboard and waits for the _ click _of the handcuffs to tell him he’s held firmly in place. The fingers of his right hand brush against the deep scratches, and he briefly attempts to remember who had been here before him. 

He doesn’t tense with Riko’s weight on top of him. He doesn’t disagree when curses of “you’re worthless” and “nothing but second best” are hurled at him like darts. He doesn’t cringe away from Riko’s switchblade. He doesn’t scream.

—

_ Kevin feels his phone vibrate in his pocket as he shuffles to Matt’s truck with the others, pulling it out to read as they all pile in. _

_ It’s a text from Wymack, one that he should have expected. _Just a warning: Neil’s in bad shape. He’ll be okay, but tell the others. They need to know. 

_ No one understands when he announces it. No one stays calm, yet he hadn't been expecting them to accept it. No one can fathom how Neil got there, how he went from seeing his uncle in Arizona to looking like he had participated in and lost six rounds of a fight with Sasquatch. No one understands why Neil would ever willingly go to Evermore; Kevin does. He knows Riko and his methods of manipulation. He knows how it feels impossible to say no to Riko. While Kevin never wanted Neil to have to experience the life he had managed to escape, he knows that Neil had no other choice. _

_ Kevin despises imagining what Riko put Neil through during winter break. Kevin knows what it’s like to be pushed until he’s ready to break, knows what it’s like to feel the cool tip of a blade against his skin. The fact that Neil had to relive his experience makes Kevin’s skin crawl. _

I know what he’s like. Riko. If you want to talk.

_ Neil looks at Kevin like he had grown a tail, but doesn’t say anything else about the matter. This is the opposite of the Neil he had once again grown to know, quiet but fierce. His exhaustion is clear; the only time he seems to let himself sleep is when he somehow manages to nod off since, still used to operating on the sixteen-hour days while he’d been in the Nest. _

_ Riko had tried to rid Neil of his fierceness and refusal by ripping him to shreds, hurting him more and more each night. Kevin casn’t tell yet whether or not he had succeeded. _

_ He finds Neil asleep on one of the couches in the Court, hours before they normally begin their evening practices. Setting his duffel bag down results in Neil jolting awake. Kevin knows that years on the run had affected how light of a sleeper Neil was, but it certainly doesn’t help that multiple accounts of trauma come with it. _

_ Neil stretches his limbs and gets up, his face hardened. ”I’m ready to play.” _

_ Kevin opens his mouth to interject and say that he’s just there to drop his belongings off, but decides against it. He remembers the need to play, a defense mechanism to get his mind off of the trauma. _

_ It takes Neil twenty minutes to break. _

_ Kevin starts with the hardest drill, rebounding the ball off of the wall to knock the cones over in the order they were set up. Neil messes up once, twice, three times; he hits the ball so hard against the wall the fourth time that it ricochets and almost strikes Kevin. _

_ Kevin seethes, closing the distance between him and Neil. He jabs his finger in Neil’s face, unable to control the octave of his voice. “You are no use to me if you aren’t focused. Your mind needs to be here, on the court. If you cannot play right now, don’t. This is not your promise. This is you playing because you are desperate for a distraction. I don’t need that, and neither do the Foxes.” _

_ Neil lifts a hand slowly, shoving Kevin’s finger away from his face none too gently. “Fuck off. I don’t need your shit right now.” _

_ “I told you that I wanted your game,” Kevin says, brushing the push from Neil off as if it’s a speck of dust. _

_ Neil clenches his fist into a punch that is never thrown. “And I told you to take it.” _

_ Kevin glances down at Neil’s fist before looking back up at him. “Then trust me to know when you’re not at one hundred percent and let yourself take a break."_

_ Neil takes forever to respond, removing his gear even though it seems like it’s the last thing he wants to do. “Whatever.” _

_ “I’m here for you,” Kevin says, the words foreign on his tongue. He wants to swallow them, wants to get rid of the shame, but he keeps going. “If you ever want to talk, or anything. I know... I know Riko. And I know what it’s like to come back from the Nest.” _

_ Neil bites his lip, averting his gaze to his racquet. “It’s just… been a while since I’ve been touched by anyone. Other than Jean… Without cruel intent behind the action.” _

_ Kevin wants to tell him that he’s here, that he can help Neil with it, with all of it, but his voice catches in his throat and his heart stumbles a bit too quickly. If Neil knows about everything that Kevin has endured and everything that Kevin has done, he doesn’t know how Neil will handle it. Kevin has been at that point where he needed kindness so badly he would have fallen apart if he hadn’t met Jean, and he realizes that maybe… maybe Neil needs that kindness too. _

_ Before he can say more, Neil leans in. He kisses Kevin, and Kevin can taste the desperation in the action. He remembers Andrew’s push, a hand flaring with pain from trying to catch himself. Kevin pulls away from Neil so quickly that he almost gives himself whiplash. “It’s not that I don’t want this—“ _

_ Neil cuts him off. “Then… then kiss me.” _

_ Kevin shakes his head firmly, backing up out of Neil’s personal space. He can’t do it; take and take more than Neil is willing to give, can’t be like— “Not unless I know this is what you truly want. I’m not going to let you use this as a way to drown away your memories, like I do with alcohol.” _

_ “You aren’t sober,” Neil retorts, cheeks flushed. Kevin can tell he’s about to go off on one of his world-famous rants. _

_ “I never said I was. But I’m going to work on it,” Kevin says, now no longer just a promise to himself, but also to Neil. “What I’m saying is I know how it feels to crave… something after out of the Nest. In an unhealthy way. And I want to help you, to help you heal, but I can’t help you like this unless I know that this is really a yes. I need to know that this is what you really want.” _

_ “It is. This isn’t just desperation,” Neil mutters, grabbing onto the sleeve of Kevin’s jersey and tugging on it. _

_ Kevin shakes his head, swallowing the reminder of handcuffed wrists and the chill of a knife’s edge. He clenches his teeth at the sight of Neil’s marred cheek and unfastens his gloves so he has something else to look at. “If it’s something you really want, then you would have told me before.” _

_ “Kevin—“ _

_ “No,” Kevin says, and Neil recoils. He accepts the rejection, despite everything, and Kevin can tell that it’s because Andrew has created an impact on him too. “I’m not going to be like Riko. I’m not going to hurt you.” _

_ “You’re not Riko.” _

_ “Him and I are more alike than you think,” Kevin says, so softly that he’s sure Neil can barely hear him. He turns around and strides back to the locker room, leaving Neil to interpret his words however he chooses. _

_ — _

_ The weeks fly by, and Andrew’s presence throws everyone off after the holidays. _

_ Kevin finds him on the rooftop with a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other. Andrew stares out at the desolate campus and takes a drag, not moving his eyes away from the setting sun. _

_ Kevin wordlessly reaches for the alcohol only to be swatted away. “This is mine. Last time I checked, you were aiming for sobriety.” _

_ “I thought you were too. You’ve only been back for three weeks,” Kevin reminds him, taking a seat next to Andrew. He bites the back of his tongue before he can comment on Andrew’s smoking habit. It seems to be the only coping mechanism Andrew has for his sudden recurrence of empathy and lasting trauma from Drake’s abuse. _

_ Andrew stubs his cigarette out even though he has the other half to finish and turns to Kevin. His face doesn’t betray any emotion, and Kevin almost thinks he’s completely bored by the topic before Andrew speaks again. “I kissed Neil last week.” _

_ Kevin nods. He tells himself that it doesn’t matter; he hadn’t been allowed to have Jean, and he won’t be allowed to have Andrew or Neil either. His feelings towards both of them are unimportant, despite the fact that they meant more to him than he cares to admit. “And?” _

_ “He told me that he also kissed you.” _

_ Oh. Kevin backtracks, words failing him for an apprehensive few minutes. “It was a mistake. I told him no. He wasn’t in the right mindset.” _

_ Andrew takes a swig of the bottle, then dumps the rest on the concrete below him. “He has been obsessed with you your entire lives.” _

_ “Okay...?” Kevin starts. He and Neil had grown up together, had experienced the same trauma and understood the Moriyamas’ power. This is nothing new. _

_ “He said he doesn’t swing for anyone other than me,” Andrew says. He drums his fingers against his thigh, something Kevin had assumed was just a way to keep moving when he was high off of the drugs, but must have always been a nervous tic. “And you.” _

_ Kevin doesn’t know where to start. “Well... what about you? What do you want?” _

_ “I want nothing, remember?” Andrew replies with his usual mock salute of two fingers to his temple. _

_ “You know what I mean.” _

_ “Yes or no?” _

_ Kevin reaches out to tilt Andrew’s chin up, but doesn’t touch him until Andrew mutters a “yes”. Kevin refuses to look away from the set of hazel eyes. “If you’re asking me yes or no to being with you and Neil, then it’s a yes so long as it’s a yes with you and him too.” _

_ “It is.” Andrew presses an index finger to Kevin’s bottom lip and leans forward. “Kissing me. Yes or no?” _

_ “Yes,” Kevin says, and joins the two. He keeps his hands supporting himself on the concrete ledge, allowing Andrew to cup his face for a better contact. It’s been so long since Kevin has been able to do this, so long since he’s been able to feel like he’s coming home. _

_ — _

_ Home. The three men sit on the roof again a month after the match against Edgar Allan. There isn’t a cigarette or bottle of alcohol in sight, replaced by warm mouths and calloused hands and whispers barely audible over the wind. _

_ Neil pulls away from Kevin to turn to Andrew. “Touching your hair, yes or no?” _

_ “Yes,” Andrew says immediately, reminding Kevin of a cat at the way he almost leans toward Neil’s hand. “Yes or no?” _

_ “Yes,” Neil replies, and allows Andrew to come closer. _

_ Kevin watches them, rubbing Neil’s back and pressing an open-mouthed kiss in between his shoulder blades. He closes his eyes for a moment and exhales, smiling a little at Neil’s shiver. These moments are his, are not hidden by fear. This is safety, is everything he needs and everything he never thought he would get. _

_ “I love you,” he says to them against Neil’s skin, barely a breath that pushes past his lips. _

_ Neil doesn’t freeze, but Kevin can tell that Andrew has. Andrew pushes Neil away so he can get a glimpse of Kevin’s face, his voice made of steel. “Don’t.” _

_ “I do. I love both of you,” Kevin says, because if he doesn’t, he might not have the chance to again. Nothing like this has ever been clear for him, but it is now, as it had been with Jean. If he didn't say it, he never would be able to breathe. “Why can’t I just tell you that?” _

_ “What’s the point?” Andrew asks, but all Kevin can hear is _ how can you? _ Andrew is a lit match held to kerosene. He’s always reminded Kevin of fire, of consolation but also of something that can burn and leave scars on your skin if you got too close to it. _

_ “Because I do. Because you both promised to protect me and because you made me feel safe again after the Nest. You both believed in me and made me stronger and—“ _

_ “Shut up,” Andrew spits. Neil opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but Andrew clamps his hand over it. _

_ “It’s true. I have no reason to lie to you."_

_ “Shut up.” _

_ “I won’t.” _

_ “Shut up,” Andrew hisses, fist raised but never thrown. Kevin notices that he’s shaking. “I am not your answer, and you sure as fuck aren’t mine.” _

_ Neil’s eyes widen at the words, but Kevin doesn’t know why. He wishes that he could tell Andrew that he knows, that these words aren’t meaningless. This feeling… makes his heart ache, and waking up knowing they are all out of harm’s way is what helps him sleep at night. _

_ Neil speaks for him. “I feel the same, Kevin.” _

_ He glances at Andrew as he says it, but Andrew launches himself up from the ground before he can hear another word. Kevin squeezes Neil’s hand to ground himself and prays that his words will stop Andrew. “You don’t have to say it back, ever. I just wanted you to know.” _

_ “Leave me alone,” Andrew says. _

“Leave me alone,” Number Two whispers to himself. He extends his arm to aid him in slipping out of bed for a glass of water, but it takes him a few disorienting tugs to realize that his wrists are still handcuffed to the headboard. He sighs and turns to Riko, whose mouth hangs open as he snores softly. A rush of respect floods through Number Two’s veins, overpowers another feeling he can’t quite place, because this is his family, this is his brother that has pushed him and pushed him to be better, but not number one, not what Kevin can never be. Riko doesn’t fill Number Two full of false hopes and goals that he will never be able to reach.

He eases back into his reclining position and doesn’t wince when the fresh wounds on his wrists remind him of a few hours earlier. Number Two allows himself to drift off into a couple more hours of sleep, and aims to avoid more dreams of people that don’t matter anymore.

_ “Kevin,” a woman says, her hand warm against his ice-cold skin. Her hair is fire cascading down her shoulders, and her face dotted with freckles that indicates she may be from Ireland. _

_ “That isn’t my name,” Number Two answers, confused but not quite because something about her is familiar. “My name is Number Two.” _

_ “That isn’t what I named you.” _

_ “Maybe not,” Number Two shrugs, because she must be delusional, must be teetering on the brink of sanity. He sees something in the twitch of her lips; heartbreak, perhaps, but he ignores it.” But it is what I am. Number two. Second best. It is what I have been and always will be.” _

_ She shakes her head, and Number Two finds himself craving to do anything but cause her to frown. The woman moves her hand to his heart, pressing against it. “No, _ mo chisel. _I__ named you Kevin because I knew you would be kind and gentle, and you have Saint Caoimhìn watching over you. You are not what the Moriyamas are trying to make you.” _

_ “I am second best—“ _

_ “No,” she says firmly, her hunter green eyes rejecting any argument he has. “You are Kevin Day. You are the best because I know you can be. Don’t you dare let anyone else tell you otherwise, do you understand me?” _

_ “No.” _

_ “I won’t take that as an answer. You are not Number Two. Your name is Kevin,” the woman insists sternly. _

_ “I... I miss you,” he whispers, and the curse breaks. Kevin pulls her into a hug so he can touch her one last time. “I miss you so much, _ mam. _ I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” _

_ “There will never be a moment where I don’t,” Kayleigh murmurs into his ear, grip tight. “I wish we had more time.” _

_ “Mom.” _

“Mom,” Kevin sobs, abruptly sitting up and almost headbutting Riko, the latter who is unlocking Kevin’s restraints.

Kevin’s hand screams for mercy that he knows will never come, and it doesn’t help that Riko’s eyes flash with fury. He reaches his hand out and presses it against Kevin’s neck, grinning at the gasp that leaves Kevin’s lips. “We are so alike, you and I. Two sides of the same coin. No matter how differently we act, we still want the same thing. You can’t deny that, brother.”

Kevin switches his gaze, but the sight of his left hand brings bile to his mouth, stays like poison sitting at the back of his throat. He pushes himself off of his pillow with his good hand, wincing at the full-body pain, but he only makes it with his feet hanging off of the bed before Riko catches his chin. “We are starting this morning with breakfast rather than the weight room. We are going to be playing three matches afterwards to see who the best team is, though we all know.”

“Yes, Riko,” Kevin says, itching to get away from the fingers that have inflicted so much suffering. He scrambles to get changed into his underclothes but his injuries prevent him from moving as fast as he wants to.

Riko tilts his head to the side, watching the slow pace Kevin holds while tugging his shorts up. “The clock is ticking. The more time you waste, the less time you have to eat, and you need your energy to lose, don’t you?”

“I know,” Kevin says. He turns the lights off to their room and makes his way to the cafeteria. He gets there early enough to grab a few scrambled eggs, but doesn’t have enough time to eat anything else. Hunger leaves holes in his stomach that need to be filled, but Kevin knows that he’ll keep bleeding out until he’s nothing but a corpse.

“Let’s go,” Riko snaps, exiting with a granola bar in hand.

Kevin leaves without another word and hurries to the locker room to put on his full gear. He shoves his helmet on, hesitating before securing it, but marches to the court with his racquet in his right hand. 

—

Kevin can hear his heart _ thumpthumpthumpthump _in his throat, his eyes following the Exy ball as it soars across the court and into the goal. 

This is his moment. One victory. That’s all he can allow himself to have. 

— 

“Get up,” someone spits, but Kevin can’t tell if it’s his imagination or reality. His question is answered with a kick to his side, and he instinctively curls into a fetal position to reduce the damage to his body. 

Kevin opens his eyes and blinks blearily at Riko’s outstretched hand. Riko had won this match by nearly ten points, but Kevin mind is playing tricks with him, because he can barely remember how. He takes Riko’s support and allows the other man to hoist him up. Riko’s grip immediately flies to Kevin’s neck with enough pressure to instill fear. “Don’t think that your success in one match means anything. You are still second best.”

“Yes,” Kevin says, and they break apart for a fifteen minute break before the third game begins. 

—

Kevin’s feet don’t stop as he takes one step, five, twelve— because he’s carrying the ball and he’s_ inches _away from Riko’s goal. He has ten seconds. 

Riko is there, a vulture ready to capture its prey.

And yet… Kevin sidesteps, takes the few steps he needs to duck under the racquet swinging towards his face, and keeps going. The footsteps of the backliners behind him roar like the audience at a game, and Kevin can barely hear Riko’s shout at them to stop him.

Kevin’s arm launches backwards, and he leaps into the air, swinging his racquet with his right hand as hard as he can until—

Riko’s scream is drowned out by the blare of the buzzer, declaring Kevin’s team the winner by one point. Kevin chokes on his breath and glances at the scoreboard again to see if the twelve-to-eleven changes. When it doesn’t seem to be budging, disbelief forces Kevin to his knees. He had beaten Riko one-handed. 

The _ thump _of someone behind him makes his throat go dry, and he stumbles for words but nothing comes out. Riko’s hand on the back of his neck results in a full-body flinch. Kevin stands and allows Riko to shove him off of the court and into the locker room. 

“Do you really think your mother would be proud of you?” Riko laughs, but there’s no joy in his voice. His anger is pink, like his cheeks, warm and quivering as he spits insults; pink like the cotton candy he and Kevin had wanted to try when they were younger and closer but were forbidden to do so. Riko backs Kevin against the lockers and presses his hand above Kevin’s head, his black eyes an endless abyss of fury and abhorrence. 

“Yes,” Kevin whispers. 

Riko’s jaw clenches. The edge of his switchblade makes its appearance in a flash, and Kevin sucks in a breath when it slips under the skin of his cheek. “At last, I thought that you had known your place. It seems that I was wrong. Again. You won today by luck only.”

“Riko.”

“I am done with your intolerance towards this matter,” Riko snarls, the knife so deep into Kevin’s skin that Kevin is sure he can feel it pressing into the bone. 

His stomach doesn’t twist itself into a knot. For the first time, with this violence, a wave of nausea doesn’t hit him. Kevin stares into his brother’s eyes and does his best to disregard the switchblade. The competition between them has been ongoing since they were children, and everything that they’ve done, everything that Riko had continued to do, can’t be changed. Kevin’s eyes water from the stinging agony of the switchblade, but his adrenaline is higher. “I am not second best.”

The implication of the words made Riko freeze momentarily. He retracts the knife from Kevin’s cheek and lets his hands fall to his sides for a second. In another second, Riko takes action again, jerking Kevin away from the lockers. His anger flashes in red again, at the lightbulbs illuminating the room and the blood that will come from Kevin’s punishment. Kevin loses his balance and tumbles to the floor, only to be pinned down by Riko. He reaches for the bench’s leg to gain purchase, but it doesn’t aid him at all because Riko’s hands on his shoulders pull them face-to-face. “You will always be second best!”

Kevin’s head slams into the tiled locker room flooring once, and then again, and again. He tries to choke out a “stop”, tries to catch a hold of Riko’s jersey or face, but after the fourth strike against the ground, the stars in Kevin sees transform into an explosion. His eyes roll to the back of his head and the ringing in his ears goes silent. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling. There is no way out of this endless abyss.

Andrew pulls the Exy racquet out of the backseat and slams the door shut behind him, not bothering to lock the Maserati. Neil already has his racquet in his hand, following Andrew without a word. They stand at the entrance for a moment until Andrew presses the button on the intercom system, tapping his foot impatiently. 

“Name.”

“Neil—“ Matt says from behind them, breathless.

The rest of the Foxes aren’t far behind, but Andrew doesn’t care. He snaps his head in Matt’s direction, his grip on the racquet white-knuckled. “Get in my way, Boyd, go ahead. Your blood on my hands is nothing but an inconvenience.”

Neil doesn’t say anything, and Andrew hears an “are we really going to do this?” from Allison before turning back to the camera. “Tell your fucking psycho to get down here. I want to speak to him.”

“Leave the premises or you will be thrown off by security,” the woman hisses. 

“We’re not going anywhere until Riko is here,” Neil spits, eyes bright blue but so, so dark. There isn’t going to be any coming back from this, but Andrew knew what he was doing when he made his promise; he knew what lines he would have to cross and what measures he would have to take. He hadn’t forced anyone to come with him; Kevin is a Fox, it’s only necessary for them to come to his aid. 

The Foxes aren’t gifted with a response, but a few minutes later, Riko strides over to them, the other Ravens by his side. There is a knife in his hand, coated in blood, and he runs a finger along the tip with a slow smile. “Hello, Doe. Nathaniel. I would say that it is a pleasure to see you and your pitiful team here, but that would be an insult to all of us. Is there something that you need?”

Andrew sees Neil shaking in the corner of his eye, jaw clenched so tightly it could break. “Let us in.”

“You can back down now, before it’s too late,” Riko says, but he maneuvers the weapon so it’s ready for attack.

“Open the gate,” Renee answers for him, her voice void of any kindness. Andrew knows that she had converted to peace after her violent upbringing, but he also knows that he isn’t the only one armed with sheaths. 

Riko shrugs and uses his key card to grant their request, watching the gates creak open as if he had never seen it happen before. The second Andrew can fit through the gap, he lunges forward, slamming his racquet into anyone that’s in his way of Riko. He’s aware that the rest of the Foxes are with him, yet all he knows for certain is that Neil is next to him, his fists being used more than his racquet. 

Every blow he makes, every drop of blood brought to the surface, means nothing. Riko had been stupid enough to start a war by manipulating Kevin into leaving; and Andrew hadn’t stopped him. Andrew had seen him in the bathroom at USC and made a stupid comment, had allowed Kevin to walk out even though he knew something wasn’t quite right. Andrew will never admit it aloud but this rage eats him alive. This rage is something he hadn’t felt since Easthaven, since Neil and Baltimore, since Aaron and Tilda— 

A Raven comes up from behind him and knocks him off of his feet. Andrew always knew when someone was behind him before they struck, but now he’s being straddled, a heavy fist colliding with his cheek. Andrew releases his racquet to get both of his hands free, to get leverage, to get the weight off of him and be able to breathe without going back to every night that he had begged for reprieve and was only met with silence.

The Raven disappears, and Andrew stifles his staggered breaths, clambering to stand as he glances at Aaron, who pounds against the Raven’s chest like it’s a game of whack-a-mole. Andrew regains his composure immediately, raising his racquet and swinging it towards the Raven’s shoulder. _ Thank you, _ part of him almost says. _ For protecting me when no one else knew how to. For being different than Cass, who knew, who had to know _— but he doesn’t because saying it means that he cares and that his past has affected him more than he wants to believe. So he just flicks Aaron a bored look that can’t be convincing and listens to his panting. 

Riko flashes in his peripheral vision, and he exhales slowly.

_ I’ll kill him _ , he thinks. _ I’ll kill him _. Because it’s another promise, like Tilda, like Proust. Because he had assured Kevin protection. Because Kevin had been the first one to believe that Andrew was something more than a fucked-up druggie. Because Andrew needs to make sure that Kevin knows that he’s keeping his word. 

He tightens his grip on his racquet and dives at Riko, striking his racquet against the man’s side. Andrew watches him fall over at the blow, reaching his hands out to wrap them around Riko’s throat. Riko, who had sent someone to kill one of the Foxes and make it look like an accident. Riko, who had marked Neil with the abhorred “4” and scars from a switchblade that cut too deep for the fun of it. Riko, who had used his power to pay off Drake and Proust to bring up Andrew’s past of everyone that had laid a finger on him. Riko, who had been jealous of Kevin, who psychologically tormented him day by day in the Nest, who had broken Kevin’s hand and decided to destroy him again when Kevin dared to reach the rank of the best Exy player in the world. 

_ I want this _ , he tells himself. He wants Riko to finally be dead and for his promise to finally be carried out. He wants everything to be over, wants— _ nothing _. The earth below him drops, and he’s falling, but not in the way that he had with Kevin or Neil. This falling is endless with nothing to ground him, is everything human inside of him disappearing. Nothing matters anymore because Andrew’s sanity is being torn apart; he’s been pushed to his limit one too many times, and he knows that the last thread holding him in one piece is going to fall apart completely.

“Andrew,” Neil says, and Andrew _ hates _him. Hates that Neil is standing on a ledge with a hand outstretched to stop Andrew’s plummeting. Hates that Neil is going to pull him back to Earth. Hates that Neil knows what he needs. Hates that Neil is in his right mind, at least enough to stop Andrew from killing Riko. 

Andrew can’t wipe the smile that creeps onto his face, and he recognizes Neil’s sickened stare, the same one from a bedroom with bloody sheets and mutilated skin from someone that was supposed to be a brother. He won’t accept Neil’s pity right now, won’t—

“Stop,” Neil says, bringing his hands close to Andrew, but never touching, never taking. No, Neil knows, and Andrew hates him for it. “You aren’t what your abusers tried to make you.”

“Don’t,” Andrew spits, his fingers digging deeper into the skin of Riko’s neck. He wants to kill Neil just to make his life easier, just to get rid of the extended olive branch that will pull him back to safety. “Don’t make this about me.”

Neil tugs on Andrew’s sleeve, yet Andrew’s grip remains unyielding. “I’m not, but you’re better than him.”

“Am I?” Andrew laughs, the sound nothing but a short breath of air. He grins so widely that it hurts. He turns and faces Riko again, releasing his grip on Riko’s throat. “What do you think, you worthless piece of shit?**”**

Neil inhales sharply behind him, but Riko opens his mouth, choking out words that he doesn’t have enough air to say. “Fuck… you.”

“Andrew, no. Come back to me,” Neil whispers, and Andrew reminds himself that Neil needs to find Kevin too, that Andrew isn’t the only one that wants Riko dead. Regret is a waste of time, is what Andrew doesn’t need if he doesn’t do this. 

“See you in hell,” Andrew says, disregarding the confusion from Neil. He breaks his gaze with Neil and raises his racquet, smashing it against Riko’s face like Aaron had done in the Hemmicks’ guest bedroom. He can hear the familiar air whistling through the racquet strings, met with the wet crunch of Riko’s nose, his mouth, his eye. Andrew sits there for a few moments, letting the racquet drop from his hands and clatter to the asphalt. He stares at the disfigured mess below him until Neil’s shuddered breathing brings him back to reality. Andrew flicks a look to him, at the blood splatter on his face, and finally reaches up to touch his own. He glances at his fingers, red and warm and sticky. 

“You asked me once if I was a sociopath, and told me that I let others say that about me without correcting them. Do you remember how I responded?” Andrew asks, but he knows the answer, will never forget it or anything else. “What people want to think of me is not my problem.’ That still holds true, even if your opinion of me has changed.”

Andrew stands and wipes his hands on his jeans, turning his back to the Ravens, to the Foxes, to Riko, to Neil. As he makes his way deeper into the Nest, he finally notices the silence. 

—

Neil’s hands shake.

He looks at Riko, and sees the blood of a man that he and Kevin had watched his father slaughter back when he was at Evermore as Nathaniel, training to try out to be sold to the Ravens prior to living life on the run. He remembers watching and being terrified, but not being allowed to look away, knowing he would be punished by Nathan later if he disobeyed. He remembers Kevin reaching for his hand, clutching it tightly as they stared at body parts that didn’t, _ couldn’t _be from a human being. His lesson that day was to learn how to clean up the scene of a murder, to leave no traces of evidence behind. Afterwards, no matter how hard he scrubbed his hands, he couldn’t get the blood out from underneath his fingernails.

He looks at Riko, and remembers that at his last visit to Evermore last winter, he had been Nathaniel Wesninski too. He can’t tear his gaze away from the blood on hands that has to be his, has to be his when he found the strength to fight back against Riko, found the strength to scratch and punch and spit. The blood has to be his from the blows of Tetsuji’s cane, has to be his from Riko’s blade, has to be his from the bite of a handcuffs when he tugged too hard. 

“Hey.” Neil can make out the question that seems to be miles away, even though everyone should have expected the outcome. He glances at Matt Boyd, pasting a smile on his face. “I’m fine.” 

Riko is dead. 

Neil hadn’t flinched at the occurrence of death since the smell of gasoline and fire on a beach in California, and yet here he is, guilt squeezing at his heartstrings— not because of Riko, but because of Andrew. Neil knows that Andrew will always carry out his promises, yet Neil had done nothing to help kill the man that had brought so much suffering to the Foxes. 

“Neil,” Renee says, catching a brief look at Riko’s body without any shift in emotion on her face other than the subtle beginning of a forming bruise by her left eye, “let me come with you.”

Neil doesn’t refuse but also doesn’t accept, the only knowledge of her presence being the faint echo of her footsteps. They know the surroundings better than Andrew, and it’s easy to scour the land until they find him in the locker room, kneeling over Kevin’s lifeless figure. Andrew drops his hand from Kevin’s neck when he seems to find a pulse, his exhale so quiet that Neil’s unsure if he actually hears it. Neil’s chest tightens, and in the blink of an eye, he’s beside Andrew, brushing the back of his hand against Kevin’s cheek. “Riko… he— the queen tattoo—“

For a second, he’s back in Lola’s car, the smell of burning flesh filling his nostrils and screams drowning out any other noise.

“I do not regret killing him,” Andrew says, his voice cold and detached. He rubs the blood off of Kevin’s chin with the edge of his shirt, and Neil can see the crescent imprints in Andrew’s palms from nails that drove in a little too deep. 

“I don’t either,” Neil replies, and it’s the truth.

Renee clears her throat behind them, crouching. “May I take a look at him?”

The tears pricking the back of Neil’s eyes are foreign, and it takes him a moment to let go of Kevin. He turns away so he doesn’t have to look at the anguish on the floor, chewing on the inside of his cheek to distract himself. “Yes or no?”

Andrew hasn’t moved to wipe Riko’s blood off of his face. He stares at Neil for a moment, eyeing him to determine his motive. “No.”

Neil nods, looking away from Andrew to fixate his gaze upon Kevin. He jumps when he hears the police storming into the building, only allowing himself to think about Kevin. _ Please be okay _, he thinks.

—

Footsteps. A pounding head. Voices, miles away. A dream, perhaps; another wish that will never come true, so he waits. Waits for the other shoe to drop. Waits for his mind to wake up and for him to realize that he’s still trapped. 

And he waits, waits for Andrew to hold him by the back of the neck and tell him that he’s safe. Waits for Neil to pull him into a hug and hold him up. Waits for something, for anything, but the only thing he gets is Renee Walker’s muffled “Kevin.” 

He lifts his head as much as he can, maybe an inch or two off of the ground, and meets her gaze. She kneels on the tiled floor, assessing him. She says something, but he can’t decipher it, can’t read lips whatsoever. He doesn’t try to form words, so he tries to blink away the confusion instead. He flinches at nimble fingers underneath him, failing to itch away from them as they guide his back until he’s in an upright position. Renee’s eyes hold something that Kevin has never seen, but he doesn’t know if it’s just his imagination conjuring something up with the damage done to his head. 

He can see Renee’s lips moving again, and looks out at the rest of the locker room to see blurs— Andrew and Neil and Wymack and the Foxes. 

Sleep— that’s all he wants. Just to sleep. Just to rest. They’re here, they’re finally here, and he can die in peace. 

“_ Kevin _.”

—

“Kevin?”

He lifts the sandbags that hold his eyes down and blinks away the stars. He feels scraped open, like a jack o’lantern on Halloween. He feels heavy, like an anchor sitting at the bottom of the sea. It takes him a few minutes to recognize that he’s on Abby’s guest bed, the lights so dim that he can barely make out the other body in the room with him. 

For a second he freezes, can’t move. Can’t breathe. He tries to scramble to get up and heed to whatever demand will be asked of him, but Wymack presses a hand against his chest to push him back down. “Hey, it’s okay. Riko isn’t here. You’re safe.”

“Riko,” Kevin spasms, clutching onto the wrist that keeps him in place while trying ignore the _ thump _ in his head. “Where is he? I have to— he needs to know—“

Wymack’s eyebrows furrow in misunderstanding, but settle to their normal position after a moment. He releases his grip on Kevin and sits on the side of his bed. Kevin twitches at the all-too familiar dip of the mattress, focusing his gaze on his father’s eyes.

“Riko is dead, Kevin.”

“What?” Kevin asks, but the world is already tilting sideways. His brother is no longer here? His brother, who had taken Kevin in after Kayleigh’s death. His brother, who had grown up with Kevin and pushed him to be one of the best Exy players in the world. His brother… grief takes control of him, squeezing so tightly that he can barely gasp for air, and yet relief is there to stifle the fire. He had lost the most influential person of his life, but also the most sadistic. He had lost his pair, but also his abuser. Kevin’s thoughts are a jumbled mess, and the only thing he can fully comprehend is that his brain is being slammed into a brick wall repeatedly. 

“Breathe,” Wymack says, and Kevin struggles to register the fingers pressing against the back of his neck. “You have to breathe.”

“I can’t—“

“You can,” Wymack says, placing a hand yet again over Kevin’s rabbit-beating heart. “You’re safe now.”

“He’s dead,” Kevin says at last, needing to hear the words from his own mouth, both a blessing and a curse. “Riko is dead.”

“Is it okay if I hug you?” Wymack asks, holding Kevin tightly when he receives a nod. 

Kevin had never had arms to cry into until now. Sobs pour out of his mouth like water, wrack his entire body like the ocean’s rough currents, and he can’t stop no matter how hard he tries. The tears are endless— are over freshly broken fingers, over the tip of a knife, over Riko and Evermore and a mother that was gone too soon. All he wants is for everything to just stop, so he can finally have some tranquility. 

Wymack doesn’t loosen his grip until someone knocks at the door. He wipes Kevin’s face with a tissue he conveniently has handy and exhales slowly. “Your mom would be proud of you, you know.”

Kevin laughs, but he doesn’t know if it’s out of heartbreak or delirium. He sniffs and glances at the door as Abby makes her entrance with a smoothie and a pill bottle. 

“Hey,” she says with a smile, even though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Here, these should help with the headache a little. You, um... suffered some serious blunt head force trauma. You’re lucky that you don’t have partial paralysis of a few of your limbs, and thank god you don’t have a hematoma or hemorrhage, but your concussion isn’t good at all. You need to minimize Exy and socializing for the next weeks as much as you can, do you understand?”

“But I have to—“

“No,” Abby says firmly. She sets the smoothie on the nightstand along with two capsules from the container. “Take this and try to get some rest. I need to work on your hand, and make sure that your brain is okay. You’re fortunate enough to be alive, don’t you get that?”

Kevin swallows the lump in his throat. “No. I have to play, it’s the only—“

“No,” Abby repeats, kneeling on the other side of the bed next to Wymack. She cups Kevin’s face and brushes her thumb across his cheek, and he jolts at the touch, reminded of his mother. He takes the pills so Abby can’t see the tears beginning to well up in his eyes again. “This, all of this that has happened… it’s breaking my heart. You have to heal, okay?”

“Help me,” He says, his voice barely a whisper. His head throbs, and he squeezes his eyes shut to get rid of the stars that appear in his line of vision. His forehead touches someone’s— Wymack’s— chest, and the beating of his heart does little to calm Kevin’s grief. 

“Let me,” his father whispers, and Kevin only chokes on his sob in response. “I can’t change what happened, no matter how much I wish I could… but I can be here for you. As your dad. And the Foxes are here to help you too.”

“I…” Kevin starts, trying and failing to form words. He wants to say that he can feel fingers pressing into his neck so tightly that he struggles to breathe. He wants to say that he can feel the edge of a knife slipping under skin— so much skin. He wants to say that he feels alone even though he isn’t, that he’s terrified and desperate for something, anything, to take this pain away. 

The world spins, and his eyes are getting heavy. Abby opens her mouth, opening a first-aid kit next to him. “I’m sorry. I had to give you something to knock you out for a little bit. Just so you can calm down and I can work on you.”

“I want…” Kevin mumbles, but can’t finish the sentence. He’s tired, so tired. Just wants…

—

_ HELP ME. _

Something he had never been able to say before Palmetto State. Being in the Nest was a privilege; the only help Kevin got was from Jean after every failure, after every punch and bruise and cut. There was no God to answer his calls, no God to stop Riko’s torment. Kevin had barely been able to take it, and then, a broken hand—

_ LOVE ME. _

The only sign he got from the heavens above at Edgar Allan was Jean— his whispers in French, his kisses on Kevin’s wounds that faded into scars, his hands, never rough, never inflicting anything other than tenderness. Then, Kevin had joined the Foxes, had begged at his father’s feet for a chance, for a potential future even if he would never be able to play again. He pushed them and yelled commands at them, but at the end of the day, he craved warmth, craved their acceptance. 

Now, he craves anything. Anything but his past. Anything but this world where nothing is fair.

“I know him,” Neil says, thousands of miles away. Kevin forces his eyes open, glancing at the cast wrapped around his left hand before focusing on Neil at the door. “I know him. Riko. If you ever wanted to talk about any of it. I’m here.”

If Neil’s lowered tone hadn’t thrown Kevin for a loop, then him turning Kevin’s words around from Neil’s stay at Evermore had.

“Where’s Andrew?” Kevin asks, wincing at the his voice that seems to come out as a shout. He exhales slowly and rubs his temple to rid himself of the throbbing, but it doesn’t do much other than waste his time.

“Kevin…”

“Where’s Andrew?” 

“He’s awaiting trial for Riko’s murder,” Neil says, so slowly that each syllable seemed to pain him. He sits at the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch Kevin’s injured hand. 

Any breath Kevin has is punched out of him, and it takes a few moments for him to give Neil an answer. “No. No. Get out. No.”

Kevin bites his lip so hard that he tastes copper again, but he doesn’t do anything to stop it, letting the blood trickle into his mouth like a stream. He hadn’t been able to stop this gigantic snowball. He hadn’t been able to protect the Foxes the one time he had to. He had failed them and put them through another bout of suffering.

Being alive, being free, is a gift. 

And he doesn’t deserve it. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to mend a heart that keeps breaking.

He wakes up with too much sweat covering his body, hot and shaking and with a heart beating too quickly for this early in the morning. Kevin sits upright and fumbles for the lamp until the light blinds him, trying to rid himself of someone's laugh, someone's fingers digging into his neck. 

“Good morning,” Renee says from the door, her voice rougher than usual. Her feet pad lightly over the hardwood floor as she makes her way over to him, and she presses a cool cloth against his forehead. “You have been asleep for a few days. I know that it must be difficult to get away from the 16-hour days. Abby has been by your side. She said your head should feel a little better after a week or so, but…”

Kevin closes his eyes but doesn’t let himself speak, inhaling as the cool water drips down his skin like rain. He wants to tell Renee that he doesn't want her here, that he doesn't need a lecture or pity or whatever this is. She and him don't talk, and their only connection is a blonde goalkeeper. Why change that now?

“After I explained my past to Andrew,” she says after a moment, not bothering to elaborate, “he broke into my room and took the knives that I kept in my closet. I asked for them back, and he told me that if I actually wanted them, I would not be hiding them in shame. He told me that he would carry them until I needed them again, and I let him because I had no reason not to trust him. I didn’t know why he needed them at the time.”

Kevin thinks about Drake and the self-inflicted scars on Andrew’s forearms that he hadn’t seen until two years after playing together. Kevin swallows the lump in his throat and waits for her to finish. 

“I told Neil last spring that the same knives Andrew held could be passed onto him, and I would teach Neil how to fight with them. He refused, but there was always that option. I am informing you of the option that you now have too.”

Kevin’s skin burns with the reminder of Riko’s blade. He opens his mouth and closes it, spending a few moments trying to find the right words. He wants to be able to protect himself for once, but he also doesn't know how he would be able to hold a knife and not remember Riko’s laugh. He can't determine whether he's more surprised at her ability to handle weapons or his potential desire for one. He looks at her, her kind face and unblinking eyes. “I’ll try, but… how do I learn not to…”

“It may take a while,” she murmurs. She removes the rag from his head and sets it somewhere behind her, straightening her back. “In the meantime, Allison helped me find a suit for the trial.”

Kevin’s protest dies in his throat. He doesn't know how he can tell everyone everything that had happened to him. Going through hell once had been too much for him, let alone going through it again in explicit detail. “I…”

Renee helps him out of bed. She grabs the suit from the doorknob and sets it on the bed like it’s porcelain, turning back to Kevin hesitantly. “Is it okay if I help you get changed?”

Kevin forces himself to nod and waits for Renee to pull off his shirt. She refuses to pay attention to his wounds, only focused on getting him dressed. She works quickly and quietly, and it isn’t long before the whole ordeal is over. 

“I’m sorry that you have to do this,” she says, fixing the tie around his neck. Her own outfit consists of leggings and a sweatshirt, so he assumes that her and the other upperclassmen are staying back at the Fox Tower. “I know you don’t want to go in front of that court and talk to the Jury, but they are calling you forward, Kevin. You are the key witness in this case, they need you to prove that Andrew is found not guilty… and I know that Andrew will never admit it, but he needs you too. Just as much as you need him.”

Kevin wants to laugh at the words. For so long, he had needed Andrew and his promise of protection; the fact that Kevin has to testify on his behalf is ironic as it is unrealistic. 

Renee lets her hands fall to her sides, sending him a soft smile that doesn’t seem believable in the mirror. “Maybe you will find some closure.”

Kevin nods, not quite sure if he believes it. “Maybe.” 

Renee nods back, making her way to the door. “You only have to tell them what you feel comfortable talking about. Use what you are ready and willing to share as a weapon, okay? I will be waiting here if you are willing to take my offer.”

—

“Members of the Jury, Andrew Minyard has been charged one count information with the crime of murder in violation of Penal Code 187. The information alleges that on September 2, at Edgar Allan University, the defendant, Andrew J. Minyard, did kill Riko Moriyama, in violation of Penal Code 187. To this charge, Andrew Minyard has entered a plea of not guilty.”

The clock ticks. Kevin stares at the ground to avoid the blinding lights and waits for words he never wants to say aloud.

—

He plays with the cast on his hand to avoid everyone’s stares. All Kevin needs is for this to be over, is to go home and curl in bed until he’s gone from the tabloids and the news and from everyone’s pity. 

“Mr. Day?” 

Kevin snaps his attention back to the judge, then glances at the lawyer. “What?”

“I need you to walk me through what happened at your stay at Edgar Allan. Can you do that for me?” The District Attorney asks, not seeming at all sensitive to Kevin’s bandaged face and plastered hand. 

Kevin swallows, his eyes somehow catching Jean’s. _ Jean _, who hasn’t wrenched his gaze away, who knows the Nest’s horrors and abuse. Jean had been Kevin’s rock and then they had been torn away from each other, one’s safety being traded for the other’s. Now that they are both free, Kevin hadn’t known how much he needed Jean. 

“Mr. Day?”

“He has been like that since we were children—“

“Riko?”

“Yes,” Kevin says, seeing the clench of Neil’s jaw, the emptiness in Andrew’s stare. “We have always competed to see who was the best. When I reached the number one ranking by the ERC three years ago, Tetsuji Moriyama demanded that we play against each other one more time to determine our worth. This resulted in a broken hand.”

“Can you elaborate on that?” The D.A. asks. 

Kevin continues as if he hadn’t heard the question. “I managed to leave Edgar Allan and join the Foxes to be with my father. I was supposed to never play again, but I trained until I could play, and then our team ended up winning the championships. Riko could not take it, and he showed up at the Exy banquet this year. He told me— he threatened me. I had no choice but to follow him to the Nest.”

The other man frowns, clearly perplexed. “No choice? It seems that you had one.”

“Your honor!” Kevin’s lawyer stands immediately. Kevin doesn’t remember his name. “This is unfair to my client! That statement lacks personal—”

“Sustained.”

The D.A. stands straighter, rewording his question. “Did you or did you not willingly go to Edgar Allan University?”

“I was not willing to put my team’s lives on the line for my own selfishness. I know Riko.”

“And these?” The D.A. gestures to the TV screen to Kevin’s left. “Do you still know Riko?”

Kevin’s mouth goes dry at the pictures. They show every wound Riko had given him in the Nest, and he can’t remember when someone had taken the photos. He tries to form words for a few moments, but couldn’t stop seeing anything other than **violation**. “I…”

“Your honor, there is no way that this evidence was legally obtained!”

“Overruled. Answer the questions, Mr. Day.”

“Let’s start with the cuts,” the D.A. starts again.

“He wanted me to play better, just not as well as him.”

The D.A. doesn’t try to hide his disturbed expression. “And the bruises on your neck?”

Kevin watches Abby, crying silently as she places a hand on Wymack’s breath to comfort him; Kevin doesn’t know if it’s working. “I had disobeyed, so he made sure to keep me in line.”

“What about your face? Or your broken hand?”

Kevin reaches up to touch the gauze taped to his left cheek, flinching. “He wanted to rid me of the queen tattoo that covered my ‘2.’ The broken hand was…”

“You stayed,” the D.A. states. “Why?”

“He is my brother,” Kevin says, as if that’s an answer. “He took me in when my mother died. I owe my life to him.”

“You could have left.”

“Could I have?” Kevin asks, unsure of the answer to his own question. “You have not experienced the Nest. Once you are chosen to play there, you do not just get to leave whenever you feel like it.”

“And Riko… he was known for hurting people? His teammates and you?” 

“He believes that discipline is the only way to make us better. He held a firm hand with Jean Moreau, Neil Josten, me… exploiting Andrew Minyard and killing Seth Gordon was what he felt like he needed to do too, in order to keep us under his rule. Riko does not care who we are. If we need to become better Exy players, he will make sure that we follow his hierarchical lineup.”

“Did you just say that Riko Moriyama had one of your teammates killed? Because that’s a very bold accusation, and a very serious crime if it’s true,” the D.A. replies in a tone colder than ice. 

“What I have said is truth,” Kevin replies, fear refusing to allow him to say more.

“No further questions, your Honor.”

Kevin knows that it’s time for him to step down and for one of the Ravens to take a stand, and he dreads having to listen to someone manipulate the horrors he had gone through. He pushes himself off from the crowd and bustles out of the room, many too busy paying attention to the Raven’s lies than his departure. 

He finds air to breathe, but his gasps are short and stifling as he sits on the court’s steps. He flinches when he hears footsteps behind him, expecting Riko or Ichirou, someone from Edgar Allan to haunt him, but it’s just Wymack. He sits next to Kevin and stares at the rain falling before turning to his son. “If I had known you were leaving… Andrew told me that you said you knew what you were doing, but did you? I never would have let you go.”

“That’s why you couldn’t know,” Kevin says, trying to push down the guilt that rises from the back of his throat. “I had to. I couldn’t— I owed it to him, to you, and everyone else.”

Wymack shakes his head, but Kevin doesn’t know if it’s out of anger or sadness. “You’ve never owed us anything.”

“I had to keep you safe,” Kevin whispers, hastily wiping the tears from his eyes. “I had to go.”

“You are a Fox. We will always protect you,” Wymack says, reaching out. Kevin nods and exhales slowly, allowing his father to hold him upright. Wymack shakes, and for some reason Kevin knows that he isn’t laughing. “We already lost Seth. We almost lost Neil. I can’t lose another one of you.”

Kevin presses his face against Wymack’s chest even though his cheek stings, clutching tightly because he needs to know that he’s here, that he’s alive, that he’s breathing and that’s enough. 

After what may have been ten minutes or ten hours, Wymack taps Kevin’s shoulders. “If you don’t want to head back in, that’s okay, but I just need to know so I can inform the others.”

“I’ll go back,” Kevin replies, standing up too quickly. He stumbles for a second, but regains his balance and trudges up the stairs. When he and Wymack open the door, the Raven is nowhere to be seen. 

Aaron protrudes from the seated crowd, his face red and fists clenched at his sides. “You can’t condemn him without putting every other offender on trial! This is preposterous—”

“Sir, do not make me remove you from the premises.”

Aaron sits back down and grumbles something under his breath, and Andrew continues as if there hadn’t been an interruption, his mask of boredom never failing to make its appearance; only Aaron, Neil, and Kevin can see through it. “I would not have called the ERC if I wanted a premeditated murder. Riko has done many things under your noses and yet you have turned a blind eye because of your own incompetence? Ignorance? Whichever one fits better. The fact that I am sitting here waiting for punishment because no one is choosing to bring justice to a school that has abused its power and violated almost every code possible is fucking moronic—“

“I am going to have to ask you to refrain from that type of—“

“—Don’t tell me what to fucking do,” Andrew snaps, and Kevin’s heartbeat can’t help but quicken at the anger in his words. “I will not allow you to give me drugs as a solution for my violent behavior again.”

The Foxes had all seen Andrew before and after his medication. They had seen the change from someone that laughed at his own trauma to someone that was fueled by a bottomless pit of rage. All Andrew had done was protect the one person that had given him a home, and while it was violent, Nicky was family, and Andrew needed to keep him safe. This was the same with Tilda, and with Riko. 

Kevin wishes he could change what had happened. He wants to speak up, but by the time his mouth opens, everyone is filing out of the room for recess. He winces as he stands, blinking away the stars in his eyes as hobbles after Andrew. 

Kevin finds him leaning against one of the pillars, his back to the crowd of people. He’s with Aaron, but at the sight of Kevin, Aaron leaves Andrew to be alone with him without another word. 

“If you are here to tell me you disapprove of my actions, get in line,” Andrew says at his approach without bothering to look up. He holds a cigarette that isn’t lit, toying with it in between his fingers. “I do not regret killing him.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Kevin replies. He inhales sharply as he tries to shove his hand in his pants pocket, instead opting to keep it at his side. 

“You never should have gone.” 

Kevin doesn’t bother with a retort. He’s tired and his head pounds and his hand aches. He doesn’t deserve any more sympathy from anyone. 

“No,” Andrew snaps, not moving his gaze to Kevin’s. His fists clench at his sides, but he doesn’t let himself look away from whatever is behind Kevin’s shoulder. “You don’t get to shut me out.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Andrew says, loosening his tie. “I have never asked anything of you, but we had a deal, Kevin. It is my job to protect you from the Moryiamas. That includes Riko, and you know that. You should have told me you were going to pull a Neil and play the martyr card.”

“He was going to hurt you,” Kevin says, his voice wobbling. “What he could have done—“

Neil takes his spot in between Andrew and Kevin, his auburn hair a mess from a hand that has run through it too many times. “But what they did to you— no.”

“How is it any different than you during winter break last year?” Kevin counters, his voice too loud and the pain behind his eyes too sharp. 

“He could have killed you,” Neil fires, his voice shooting out like bullets. He flips off the few people that dare to turn in their direction. “One more hit against the ground and you could have died from a brain hemorrhage. He could have…”

“I’m sorry,” Kevin says dumbly. The words he wants to say can’t even reach his tongue. Guilt crushes him, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to lift the weight off of his shoulders anytime soon.

“We don’t want you to be sorry, we want you to be safe,” Neil says, casting a glance at Andrew before returning his attention back to Kevin. “That’s all we want.”

Andrew shoves the cigarette in his pocket. “Recess is over.”

“Hey,” Neil says, his fingers tugging at Andrew’s coat sleeve. “What do you need?” 

Andrew taps two fingers to his temple as he had a million times before. “I don’t need anything.” 

Kevin can hear the frustrated sound at the back of Neil’s throat. Andrew disappears into the courtroom before anyone can say another word and leaves Kevin and Neil behind.

—

“Members of the Jury. My client, Mr. Minyard, is not guilty of the charges against him. Every man has a right to defend himself, as it is one of the most basic rights a United States citizen has. When Mr. Moriyama tortured Mr. Day, illegal acts had already began, and when my client came to stop the unjust acts, what choice did Mr. Minyard have? He either had to allow the brutality at Edgar Allan to continue until someone could have gotten hurt even more like Mr. Josten and Mr. Moreau, or even died like Mr. Day could have if no one had come to his aid. He did what anyone would have done; he protected his team, his family. Please do the right thing and find him not guilty.”

— 

“Kevin,” Jean says from behind him, playing with a loose red and gold bracelet around his wrist uncomfortably, but also appearing to be more at ease than Kevin had seen in a long time. Jeremy is a few feet behind him, texting rapidly on his phone.

Kevin nods at him, inhaling deeply and watching him closely. “Jean.” 

“It’s been a while since I saw you after Renee saved me from the Nest.” Jean pauses, searching for the injuries that aren’t on public display. “I’m glad you are okay. Despite having gone back.” 

“You know what it’s like there,” Kevin says, his voice dropping. 

“I do.”

“Then you know that I’m not—“ Kevin stops, chewing on his lip for a few seconds so he can form his words. “You know that I’m not…”

“I know,” Jean swallows, taking a step forward. “I know, I am… I’m sorry. _ J’suis désolé _. If I had known... “

Kevin reaches his hand out, and Jean takes it without hesitation. Kevin clutches it as if it’s the only lifeline keeping him from drifting out to sea, needing someone that understood and had been in the Nest at the same time, had understood Riko’s violence and who had been there to clean up the mess.

“It’s okay now,” Jean whispers to him. “I was not okay for a while, and I am still not entirely there. But I am better. You will get there too.” 

“Jean…” Kevin trails off, guilt jumbling the words in his mouth. He watches Jeremy talk to Laila and switched his gaze back to Jean’s. What he wants to say is _ please don’t go _ . What he wants to say is _ I already lost you once. _What he wants to say doesn’t matter.

“I am not going anywhere,” Jean replies with certainty, because he knows. He releases his grip after a few moments, rubbing his fingers along Kevin’s knuckles before dropping his hand. “Give me a call. Your friend is waiting for you.”

Kevin turns to see Aaron playing with his button-down shirt, watching Kevin and Jean’s interaction. Kevin says one more goodbye to Jean and offers a half-smile to Jeremy. 

“Abby is with Wymack. They’re relieved, but still… upset with everything,” Aaron says as they wait for Neil to pull up in the Maserati. He looks out at the sky as if it would suddenly stop raining, his blonde hair matted down as a result. “Andrew defended me during my trial, but I couldn’t even return the favor.”

Kevin blinks a few times at the sudden change of topic. “I’m sorry—“

“But I’m glad it was you,” Aaron says, facing him at a snail’s pace. “I’m glad that you stood up for him when I couldn’t reach him. I’m glad that Riko is dead and you’re alive. And… I’m glad that you and Neil are with my brother, even if I don’t understand it. I guess it doesn’t really matter, because I’ve never understood him.”

Kevin’s mouth hangs open, and he doesn’t bother to hide his confoundment. “You’re still his family. I would do it again… if it meant keeping you two together.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything else, and Neil pulls alongside the curb. Andrew sits in the passenger seat, opening the glove compartment so he can slip his armbands on. Kevin glances at the scars on his wrist and the ones on Neil’s face for a moment with a twist in his stomach before getting into the backseat with Aaron.

“Columbia,” Kevin says, breaking the eerie tranquility in the car. “Can we go to Columbia? You guys can say no, I just—“

Neil turns to Andrew and seems to get an answer. “Yes. I’ll change our route.”

Kevin nods, unable to bring himself to speak again. Aaron glances at him before looking away just as quickly. 

Neil drives them to the Columbia house, the rest of the car ride continuing to lack in conversation. Kevin gets out of the car as soon as Neil pulls into the driveway, desperately in need of fresh air. 

“Kevin,” Neil says, his fingers stopping right before Kevin’s face. He doesn’t touch, but Kevin flinches so roughly that he can feel it throughout his entire body, and he watches Neil recoil as if he had been burned. This is new, different, uncharted territory. Neil had always been able to touch Kevin without asking the way he did with Andrew, but it was off the table now. “What do you need?”

Kevin's face burns with shame. "I need to be here. I need to stop seeing the Nest every time I close my eyes. I need my mom, I need…"

“Okay,” Neil says, as if it's that simple. 

“Why can’t you fucking look at me?” Kevin asks suddenly, turning to Andrew. He can hear the misery in his voice, can hear his heartbeat speeding up each second that Andrew doesn't reply. 

“Do you expect me to be able to?” Andrew says at last, but he still comes across as undisturbed by the matter; Kevin almost believes him to be if he hadn’t noticed Andrew’s hands clenched into fists in his pockets. “I gave you a promise, and you gave one to me. Why did you break yours?”

_ Why did you break yours? _ Andrew said, but all Kevin hears was _ why did you ever think a future was for someone like me? _

Kevin remembers the promise, remembers Andrew’s past. Andrew had planned to keep his word, had planned to die in order to protect his team, even if he said he didn’t care. A future didn’t matter if he had never seen himself having one. 

“Andrew—“ Kevin starts.

“You can’t carry out your end of the deal if you are dead,” Andrew cuts him off. “I am not going to sit here and listen to the justifications for your actions. You put yourself in harm’s way for an idiotic reason, and—“

“Everything you and Neil and… and Aaron and Nicky and everyone else has been through,” Kevin shoots back, pressing a finger to his temple to calm the pounding, “is too much. I couldn’t be the one to give you any more suffering.”

“You don’t think this hurts us?” Neil asks, finally turning to face Kevin after unlocking the front door. “Because seeing you like this is killing me.”

“Seeing you in the Nest was killing me!” Kevin shouts, can’t rewind and change the words no matter how much he immediately regrets ever opening his mouth. 

“What,” Andrew asks, a question that is too flat. His hand stills midway through the air; it is the only sign that tells Kevin he’s caught Andrew off guard. 

Kevin’s stomach turns violently. “He made me watch you. He has tapes… of your torture at Easthaven, and Neil’s in Baltimore. He— I—“

It takes a minute before Andrew can speak, and he finally does after a glance at Neil. “We are fine now, are we not?”

“But… but what they did to you,” Kevin tries, knowing that they don’t want his pity, yet he can’t stop the emotions from sucker-punching him. “They… I can’t—“

“Kevin. Look at me. Look at Neil. Look at all of the other Foxes. They fought and they stayed even though no one thought they would ever make it. You would not be on this team if you had not gone through something.”

Kevin nods, but breaks his gaze and heads inside the house without another word. He opens the cabinet above the sink, hand tightening around the vodka. He unscrews the cap, just wanting a buzz, just an end to this nightmare, just a way to forget his mother’s voice at the back of his mind, just—

Neil wrenches the bottle out of his hands, dumping the contents into the sink. Kevin watches Neil swallow, can see the face for half a second that reminds him of the Butcher. Neil shakes his head, barely. “No.”

Kevin’s tongue ties itself in knots. For his entire life, everyone had envied him, had wanted what he had with Riko; the ultimate Exy duo. Everyone had expected them to play side by side for the rest of their lives, had ignored the warning signs of Kevin’s broken hand and thought they had a right to be devastated when it was decided that he would never be able to play again. This isn’t any different. Edgar Allan had been completely shut down for investigation by the ERC, and everyone wants to hear his story. Kevin doesn’t know how much longer he has until the reporters and paparazzi hound him with endless questions. He can’t answer questions about Riko, about how he feels about his death, about how close he and his adopted brother were. He just wants to be left alone to cope, but he knows that he won’t have a say in the matter.

“I can’t do this,” Kevin spits instead, his casted hand aching as he squeezes it, “and you do not get to act like you understand. The Nest may have been a terrible place, but it was my home when I had nothing. Riko’s death is something that will be in the tabloids for months, and you think that this trial will what, bring us justice? Do you think the Ravens won’t still hate our team? Do you think Ichirou will suddenly stop holding that deal above your head?”

“I never said it would bring us justice,” Neil says, leaning back against the counter. “But it is a way of coping with everything. The ERC will get rid of the Moriyamas, and Ichirou will have to be careful about each move he makes. I know the deal might not change, but he’ll realize he was wrong about his brother.”

“I don’t need to hear this right now,” Kevin replies, dismissing Neil’s statement with a wave of his hand. He makes his way upstairs and into one of the guest bedrooms, not bothering to turn on the lights. Columbia is supposed to feel like home, but here he is, bringing everything from the Nest with him. He can’t shake the feeling of being with the Ravens, with Riko. He closes the door and sits on the bed, trying to remind himself that he’s alone, that someone won’t come storming in and demand him to play even with his injuries. Kevin wants to tell himself that he has no reason to be afraid, that he’s safe and the Foxes are safe and everyone is okay. 

But he remembers Riko’s hand on his neck, remembers Riko’s breath against his ear, remembers the words and the threats and the promises that they were the same and that they would always be together.

And maybe they are. Two sides of the same coin.

Kevin pulls his phone out of his pocket and finds the contact he’s searching for with ease.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shared trauma. What's a little more?

“Kevin.”

He answers on the first ring. Kevin exhales at the sound of Jean’s voice, resting back against the pillows in an attempt to relieve some of his anxiety. “Are you busy?”

Jean fades out for a moment, and Kevin listens to unintelligible murmurs before his voice is louder again, easier for Kevin to hear. “No.”   
  


“I can go—“

“No,” Jean says again, and it’s enough for Kevin to rid himself of the guilt he feels for calling in the first place. They haven’t talked in over a year, Jean healing slowly with the Trojans and needing to be away from any reminder of Edgar Allan while Kevin spent more time with the Foxes.

“I just need… to talk about it. About all of it,” Kevin breathes, grateful for cell phones to keep them from being with each other; Kevin doesn’t think he can look at Jean as he spills every traumatizing experience all over again. “I know that you’re trying to recover—“

“That does not matter,” Jean replies, waiting for his words to be swallowed by Kevin’s greedy ears. They sit there for a few moments, tarnishing as each second passes. “I have to relive it in my nightmares nonetheless. I can only imagine what it was like for you to go back.”

He has every reason to hate Kevin. Kevin had left him in the hands of Riko to suffer abuse for another year because of his own selfishness. Kevin swallows and nods his head even though he knows Jean can’t see him. “He threatened me. He told me that if I didn’t go, he would take you, or Neil, or Andrew, or my father. I didn’t— I couldn’t say no. I… I hate it, Jean. I hate that I love him and I hate that I’m glad he’s dead. He  _ deserves _ to be dead… but that doesn’t stop some part of me from wishing that he was alive. I know it’s wrong, I know—“

“He was your brother,” Jean says, as if it’s enough of an explanation for Kevin’s feelings. Kevin can still hear the distaste in his voice. 

“I…” Kevin tries, can’t speak. Everything he wants to say sticks to the back of his throat like glue. He wants to say that he can’t sleep without feeling the sting of the handcuffs around his wrists. He wants to say that every time he talks, it’s hard to breathe because he swears Riko’s hands are around his neck. He wants to say that every time he blinks he can see the familiar sadistic smile or Andrew’s shaking body or Neil’s marred face. He wants to be able to move on or stop everything, but... “I’m not strong.”  _ Not like Neil. Not like Andrew.  _

_ I’m not brave. I went out of fear. I went because I didn’t see any other choice. I didn’t stand up against Riko and reclaim my place.  _

_ I’m not okay. I can’t move on from this. _

_ (I don’t know if I ever will.) _

Jean rustles around. “Can I come over?”

“Yes, but... I’m in Columbia. It’s—“

“Send me the address. I will see you soon.”

He had forgotten that he, Jeremy, Alvarez, and Laila were all still in South Carolina after the trial. Jean hangs up. Kevin digs his heels into the mattress at the knock at the door, setting his phone on the dresser. “I don’t need to listen to another lecture.”

“I just want to check on you,” Neil says, his voice muffled by the barrier between them. “Is it okay if Andrew and I come in?” 

“No,” Kevin replies slowly, his teeth grating together because the ERC has access to the tapes of Easthaven and Baltimore and Kevin hadn’t been smart enough to destroy them. He can’t face his own guilt, let alone the people he had failed. 

“Okay.” He hears the sound of footsteps fading and returns to his position facing the wall. 

Kevin doesn’t know how long he sits until there’s a knock at his door again. He sighs, holding a loose grip on the wrist of his broken hand. “I already said I don’t want to talk.”

“Do you really want me to go?” Jean asks through the door.

“No, don’t,” Kevin says, the words falling out of his mouth before he can stop it.  _ Don’t go. I can’t be alone. I can’t do this without you. _

Jean slips into the room quietly, and Kevin watches him blink in the darkness for a few moments before flipping on the lights. “This is not the Nest.”

Kevin holds his hand up to shield away the brightness and the memories of black walls and red lights, but doesn’t say anything. 

Jean kneels next to him and reaches out to cup Kevin’s face, his thumb running ever-so-slightly along the gauze on his cheek. “ _ Merde.  _ Kevin....”

Kevin shivers under the gentle touch. He can now why Neil had been flinching away from everyone for a while. Jean pulls his hand away and watches Kevin for a few seconds. “Can I hold you?”

They had never been able to do this in the Nest. This is forbidden yet safe. Something in Jean’s eyes tells Kevin that this isn’t meant to be a declaration of love, but a sign that he’s here, and Kevin’s gratefulness is lost in his sea of thoughts. They had been together once, but they both know it’s been too long and there are too many factors stopping them from being together again. 

Kevin nods, and Jean settles in the bed beside him. Kevin tenses when he feels Jean’s arms wrap around him, wincing a little as hands brush along the scars on his ribcage. He exhales slowly, relaxing for the first time since Evermore. His head finally stops pounding every time he blinks and his hand isn’t screaming as much in its cast. 

Jean’s own hand presses against Kevin’s heart, and he waits for it to slow and for his eyes to shut before allowing himself to drift off to sleep. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress is not a straight line.

For the first few minutes that Kevin is awake, he believes that this is a dream; that Jean, _ here _ and _ safe _ isn't anything but a hallucination caused by Riko’s torture. Kevin blinks, the images of a first aid kit and blood-stained lips dissolving from the backs of his eyes. They aren't in an all-black locker room with bruises or a bedroom with the French language dancing on their tongues; they are here, in Columbia. They are somewhat out of harm's way, even when they never thought they would be.

Kevin stretches with a clench of his jaw and listens to the cracks of his joints. Jean’s eyes snap open at the movement, sweat on his forehead from a nightmare he’ll never discuss. 

“I’m sorry,” Kevin whispers, watching his chest rise and fall. His throat clogs with molasses that thickens by the second.

Jean doesn't gift him with a response until he catches his breath, allowing his fingers to brush against Kevin’s cast. He dismisses the apology and shakes his head. Kevin lies back against the pillows and watches him. 

Jean exhales, turning his head to meet Kevin's gaze. "I hated you, you know. Every day I took Riko’s punishments without question because I had a hope that you would come back. And then when I saw you with the Foxes… I wanted you to be the dead man, not me. Even after Renee rescued me… I could not stand the sight of you. You abandoned me.”

"Jean…" he starts off, as if there's something he can say to make things right. _ I never should have left._

“It was what you had to do,” Jean says, moving to adjust the gauze on Kevin’s cheek. “You had no choice. I realize that now. For a long time, I wished things had ended differently, but now I am glad that they did not. We are free. Do you understand? We are free. Riko is not able to hurt us anymore.”

Kevin can't bring himself to do anything but nod. He clenches his good hand around Jean’s, trying to swallow the sob that chokes him. When he fails, Jean only shakes his head and brushes away each tear. "_ Nous sommes libres _. We are free.”

A knock on the door breaks their moment alone, and Kevin tears himself away from the furnace of Jean's hand. He doesn't move Jean’s arm that wraps around his shoulders. 

“Kevin?” Neil asks. Kevin can hear the floorboards creak with the shift of his weight from one foot to the other. He looks over at Jean, waiting for the shake of his head or the furrow of his eyebrow. When he receives nothing, he stands, instantly regretting it when his legs almost give out beneath him. He trudges forward anyway, one foot in front of the other, until he reaches the knob. His head rests against the wood, and he breathes slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. He opens the door and stares at Neil, hating the bile that rises in the back of his throat.

"I made breakfast," Neil says, an olive branch extended for Kevin to take. "And there's coffee. Two packets of sugar and some almond milk."

Kevin nods and glances at Jean, the latter man already picking up his jacket where it had been thrown carelessly over the ottoman. "I am here," he says in French, even though Neil understands it; in some ways Kevin still feels like the language is theirs, only theirs. "Jeremy and I are leaving today, but you know that I am here. You can call me when you need to, Kevin."

"Thank you," Kevin replies, turning to Neil and switching his mind back to English. "Was there anything else?"

"I want to talk to you," Neil says as Jean leaves, and Kevin can see the tension in his face, can see Neil's mental battle as he walks on a tightrope without knowing which step will bring him plummeting to his death. "Can I?"

"Yeah," Kevin mumbles, taking a seat on the bed again. He wants to knot his fingers together but holds his left wrist instead, welcoming the discomfort of the brace. 

"I'm sorry," Neil starts, spitting the words out like they're toxic. He sighs, his shoulders sagging. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put this pressure on you about what might happen. I don't… want to lose this, but if you need me to take a step back, if you want Andrew and I to leave you alone, we will."

"No," Kevin says stiffly, not bothering to add anything else. All he knows is that he can't do this without them, he can't be alone again to deal with the grief, he can't—

Neil sits on the comforter beside him, fingers reaching out but never touching, never taking. "Yes or no?"

"Yes," Kevin answers.

Neil's hand curls around Kevin's chin, his lips pressing lightly against the gauze on his cheek. He lifts Kevin's wrists, mouthing along them, along handcuff wounds that haven't healed. Neil lifts his head, takes Kevin's chin again so they are eye-to-eye. "These are a part of you. They are a part of Andrew. They are a part of me."

He doesn't say anything else, but Kevin doesn't expect him to. The fact that Neil's sitting here now, addressing something that he still struggles with to comfort Kevin… 

"Thank you," he whispers, because he doesn't know what else to say. 

"Breakfast?"

"Yeah." 

Neil leads, his sweatpants pooling at his feet like they're too— oh. Kevin's heart lifts a little at Neil in his clothes, but he says nothing and limps down the stairs behind Neil. All of the tension returns with Andrew's presence, and uncertainty tugs at the back of Kevin's mind. He sits at the edge of the bar stool, ready to flee if he needs to. There's an empty plate beside him; Aaron's, presumably. Kevin blinks, and then he's holding a mug but he can't quite remember when he picked it up; it's getting cold. His eyes focus on plastered fingers and he thinks about his conversation with Neil, the last time he saw Riko, the distant ache that hasn’t yet left his joints, the last words Jean gave him before leaving. 

"Kevin," Andrew says, a life preserve being thrown out to pull him back to shore. 

"I wanted to destroy them," Kevin says, not breaking his gaze. He can't bear to see Andrew's irritation, can't bear to see the disappointment for failing to act. "I can’t— I dont know how they got them. I’m sorry. I should have… I should have done something."

“Are you the one that recorded them?"

“Of course not, but—"

“Then there is nothing to be sorry for," Andrew replies, overcompensating. He is a rubber band ready to snap. "You are not responsible for their existence. You are not responsible for the sick things Riko did. He wanted to hurt you, and he believed that showing you the videos would work."

"I could have done something, Andrew—"

"The truth." Andrew sips from his hot chocolate even though it's steaming, and Kevin finally looks at him, wondering if Andrew is trying to burn away the words he keeps pushing out. "The truth is that you are here. You are not in Evermore, and you never will be again. The truth is that you could not have done anything to get rid of those tapes."

Silence falls over them except for the quiet gurgle of the coffee machine. Kevin wants to break it, hates the feeling that he can't breathe right without worrying that he's doing something wrong. "I…"

"The truth," Andrew says, nothing more. His tone is final, and Kevin has the feeling that he won't let this debate go on any longer. He gestures to a plate of eggs and toast, setting his mug down. "You should hurry up. Renee is waiting for you."

"Why?" Kevin asks, making sure to chew slowly so he doesn't worsen his headache. He glances at Neil finishing off his coffee and Andrew scooping the last of his cereal into his mouth before he gets a response. 

"She said that you accepted the knives," Andrew says, adjusting his arm bands. Part of Kevin wants to believe that he doesn't care, but he knows that Andrew's flat tone means anything but. 

"Yeah."

"Then finish up. She's waiting for you outside."

"Okay," Kevin says. 

He sets his plate in the sink and doesn't bother to change out of his pajamas as he slides on a pair of tennis shoes. Neil calls out a "bye" but he's already out of the door before he can bother to answer. 

When he reaches the backyard, he notes that Renee's presence also lacks formality; her sweatpants hang low on her hips. The t-shirt she wears must be Allison's, because the strands of loose blonde hair are a sharp contrast to the shade of black. She offers a smile. "Good morning, Kevin."

"Hi," he says, his eyes dropping to the knives in her hand. They're another set similar to Andrew's: small enough to be concealed but sharp enough to kill. 

"Don't worry," she says, her voice reminding him of his mother, calm when he is crumbling, "I will not be teaching you how to use them yet. Today's focus will only be handling it, all right?"

"All right." 

She opens his palm and places the knife in it. _ Trust her, _ he tells himself. _ You have to do this. _He closes his fist around the handle, nails digging shallow crescents into his palms because Riko’s laugh traps itself in his head, every wound inside of him flares up, and he can’t—

“He isn’t here,” Renee states, her hand closing around his. “This is your weapon. He will never get to touch it.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”

Silence surrounds them like a blanket, and Kevin exhales as tension relieves the knots in his shoulders. He allows his left hand to hang at his side and focuses his energy on the knife in his right. 

"If you're ready, I can teach you the different ways to handle it," she says.

—

Renee tries again, tapping Kevin's wrist so he releases the knife. "We should stop. This is too much for you right now. You still have a concussion, and you just got back onto your feet."

"I'm fine," Kevin insists, even though his head throbs and his hand is numb. He attempts the jab she taught him and watches her dodge it. 

"Kevin," she says once more, her hand reaching out to stabilize him after he stumbles. "You need to rest."

"I need to beat him!" Kevin spits, cheeks hot. He slashes the air and stumbles again. "I need to be better than him, for once."

Renee wraps her fingers around his and slides the knife into her sheath. "You have always been, but this doesn't prove that. You cannot exert all of your strength at once. Focus on where your opponent is weak."

"I need to..." Kevin sags against her, giving up. It hadn't even been a week since he had been back from the Nest, but he couldn't help but feel that he had to be better, that he had to heal so he could play and prove that he was still worthy. 

Renee is quiet as she helps him up the porch steps and into the back door, one arm hooked under his and grip loose against his hip. Her lips quirk into a small smile at Andrew and Neil, gesturing her head toward the bedroom. "He should get some sleep."

"Overdoing it," Andrew says, looking up from his book and taking off his glasses to glare at Neil. "Sounds familiar."

Neil gets up from the couch and makes his way to the kitchen, pulling a smoothie and premade sandwich out of the fridge. He tilts his head at Andrew and waits for him to get up. "Thank you, Renee. Do you want to stay?"

"I have to get back to Palmetto. I promised Allison dinner," she answers, releasing Kevin slowly so he stands on his two feet. "But thank you for the offer."

Neil nods and leads Kevin to the bedroom, presumably because Renee and Andrew want to carry a conversation without them. Kevin climbs under the sheets without protesting, clenching his teeth at the sharp stab in his fingers. Neil hands him the sandwich and sits on the bed, watching him eat like a parent would with their child. Kevin breaks the eye contact when Andrew slips in, the latter man not moving from the door. 

"We'll let you rest," Neil says, getting up from his spot on the floor. 

"Don't," Kevin says. His voice is scratchy, sandpaper. He hates himself for sounding so desperate, but he can't stop begging anyway. "Stay."

"You need to rest," Andrew says, not budging. 

Kevin almost spits out _ please, _but he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself. "Rest with me?"

Neil gestures for Kevin to move over and sits on the edge of the bed, lying on his side so he faces him. Andrew's sigh is almost inaudible, but Kevin manages to catch it as he watches the door close. Andrew crosses the room and climbs into bed too, his back pressed against the wall. 

"Yes or no?" Andrew asks quietly.

Kevin's on his back, but he turns his head slightly to look at him. "Yes."

Andrew's hand curls around his chin, just like it did a week ago in the USC locker room with untold truths and a death wish. _ There it is, Kevin _ thinks. _ There is the sign I've been looking for. _Andrew has resigned from his apathy for a few seconds, has swapped his armor for emotion, even if it's the slightest. 

"Does this still not mean anything?" Kevin whispers. Silence pours around him like a waterfall, deafening. He faces Neil to avoid the obvious answer, tangles their legs together so he can—

"No."

Kevin's heart stutters, his lips opening and closing for a few minutes because this wasn't what he predicted, no. Andrew was supposed to say yes, was supposed to say that they were _ nothing _. "Andrew…"

"Go to bed," Andrew says, resigned. There is no point in trying to prod any further, so Kevin nods and stares at the ceiling. Neil is already half-asleep, his body a furnace for Kevin's left side. Andrew sighs again, taking Kevin's left hand and putting it in his blonde mop of hair. "Here only."

“Okay,” Kevin says, voice barely a whisper. "You can touch my arm, if you want."

His eyes fall shut and he finally lets the fatigue take over. He keeps his right hand in Andrew's hair and almost smiles when Andrew's fingers find their way to the inside of Kevin's elbow. 

It isn't long before he drifts off. 

  
  


—

He wakes up once. His back is cramped and he's too sweaty but his hand is in Andrew's hair and his legs are still a tangled mess of limbs with Neil's and they look at peace like this, for once… 

_ Thank you for letting me have this _, he says to his mom, even if she can't hear him.

_ I understand it now, why you left Wymack. You loved him, you didn't want to hold him back. You put him first. You put me first. _

_ I wish you were here. _

His mind falls back into a state of half-consciousness, sleep pulling him in its arms with a comforting embrace. 

_ Me too _, he hears, but he's too far gone to determine whether or not it's a dream.

—

There is a camera sitting on his bed when he wakes up. 

—

"Can I photograph you?" He asks later that night.

Andrew is on the couch with another book while Neil watches some old Exy footage on the TV, and Kevin doesn't want to intrude so he keeps one foot in the kitchen and the other in the living room. Part of him is tempted to say "thank you" for the gift but acknowledging it wouldn't get a response. 

"Sure," Neil says at the same time Andrew says "no."

Kevin nods and crouches down. He hasn't done this since the roadtrip to recruit Neil, and the weight of the camera is heavy in his right hand. His index finger hovers over the shutter release and he wants to capture the photo but he's shaking too much for it to even be comprehensible. 

Frustration sinks into his skin and pricks the back of his eyes. A whimper escapes his mouth, just barely, but Neil and Andrew hear it nonetheless. 

"I am only going to say this once," Andrew says, his voice dripping with too much apathy to be convincing. Neil takes the camera from Kevin's hand and sets it somewhere on the couch behind him. Kevin's eyes fall to the floor, yet it isn't long before Andrew is snapping fingers in front of his face. "You will not recover immediately. You are not expected to. Some days may be better than others. Some days you will be able to make it without thinking about what happened in the Nest at all and some days you will not be able to go five seconds without thinking about Riko or the Ravens." Andrew pauses, grating his teeth together like he's forcing the words out of his mouth. "You will recover. Not completely, but no one is expecting you to."

It is the closest Andrew will ever get to reassurance, but it still lessens the tension in Kevin's shoulders. He thinks about Andrew allowing himself to feel and be touched. He thinks about Neil being able to change in front of the Foxes without worrying about his scars. He thinks about all three of them together having _ this _, each other, and it maybe… he doesn't have to be afraid anymore. 

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only love could ever hit this hard.

He pops the painkiller into his mouth and chases it down his throat with water. 

It's the first game of the season, and adrenaline courses through Kevin's veins and feeds him oxygen. The Foxes are playing against the Breckenridge Jackals, and to say he's been anxious is an understatement. The last time they played together, the Jackals had tried to hurt his hand; he doesn't need another repeat. Wymack is only letting him play second half tonight, Abby's orders, but that doesn't stop him from wanting to play the full game anyway, to prove that he can do it and that—

"Good luck," Neil says, nodding to him as he takes his helmet off and makes his way off of the field. He sends Kevin a smile and tugs at the chain around his neck, one that Andrew and Kevin both own. 

Kevin reaches for his own and takes a deep breath, feeling the ridges of the key that shouldn't mean so much but do.

The referee blows the whistle, and the game picks up.

—

Abby shakes her head, and Kevin does his best to ignore the worry in Wymack's eyes. He turns the racquet over in his right, and then transfers it to his left, flinching at the unfamiliarity. His fingers sting as they curl around the width, and he needs a better grip but the ball is getting closer to Andrew and Kevin is nowhere near it. The urge to shout, to say "over here!" tickles the back of his throat, yet he keeps his mouth shut. 

Andrew seems to understand anyway.

The ball slams off of the court wall and makes its way towards Kevin, so he starts running. The Jackals behind him create a cacophony of noise, a stampede of bulls, and Kevin briefly remembers the same sound from Riko's test that he had no choice but to partake in.

_"Stop him!"_ He swears he hears, but the dead don't talk and ghosts aren't real. _You beat him_ _one-handed_, Kevin tells himself. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. _You beat him, so you can beat them._

He's thirty yards from the opposite goal, only thirty. The buzzer counts down the time left, and his heart beats with it. _ Twenty yards. _

Something dives in front of his feet, a flash of tan and black, and time slows. _ You will fall. You've cheated death one too many times, _ he thinks. _ Ichirou will not be so understanding anymore. _

His body catches up, and Kevin jumps. 

He lands on his feet. The goalie sputters, shock written all over his face, and Kevin slams the ball to his destination, relief flooding through him at the _ 10-9 _ that flashes on the scoreboard. He sinks to his knees as fatigue slowly trickles in, a dam ready to break.

_ "Do you really think your mother would be proud of you?” _ Riko whispers in his ear, but he isn't here, will never be here again.

"You don't get to terrorize me anymore," Kevin whispers, fear taking hold yet also loosening the reins. _ I will never be a Raven again. _

"I imagine she's proud knowing that you're her son," Wymack says from beside him as players abandon the field. Kevin holds his right arm out and lets his father hoist him to his feet. "I know that I am."

Kevin clenches his teeth so hard they could break. The words are a fresh wound that will still take time to heal, and he wants to see his mom, wants to pull his father tight and never let go. "When I go pro—" he starts, and stops. Tears prick the back of his eyes, threaten to push to the surface and roll down his cheeks. The painkillers always loosen the filter in his mouth. His hand throbs as a reminder.

"When you go pro, I will be here," Wymack says, grabbing a water bottle from somewhere beside him and feeding it to Kevin like he's a newborn baby. For some reason, he doesn't mind. "I will be here with the Foxes and I will be by your side. I will watch every game, through the TV or in person. I will be here, and you're going to continue to bring success to the Day legacy. I don't believe there's a better person for it."

"Dad," Kevin sputters, pushing the water bottle away from his mouth. The word rolls off of his tongue and drops into Wymack's lap. "Thank you."

Wymack freezes for a second, but then he reaches his hand out and squeezes Kevin's shoulder, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You have nothing to thank me for."

Kevin feels his own grin beginning to form, but it quickly disappears as the reporters yell from the stands; they aren't in their own little world anymore. 

"You don't have to answer anything," Wymack says, his hand firm on Kevin's shoulder as they make their way to the locker rooms. Kevin stops in front of them anyway.

"How does it feel to be the best Exy player in the NCAA?" A woman in all-black sneers.

Kevin eyes her warily for a moment, wondering if she's an Edgar Allan fan, but inches towards the mic. "I don't know if I'm the best, but I never would have been able to recover and keep playing without my team."

"We all saw your Instagram feed last night," another reporter shouts. "You posted a picture of three sets of legs in a set of sheets and two cats. You tagged striker Neil Josten and goalkeeper Andrew Minyard. Can you confirm that you're together?"

"Yes."

"How does it feel to be the first gay Exy player? What advice would you give to other LGBT+ athletes?"

"I am not the first," Kevin grunts, thinking about Jean, about Nicky, about Allison and Renee holding hands when they think no one is looking. "And I don't like labels, so please don't assume I'm gay."

"I'm sorry," the reporter says, clearing his throat. He looks barely older than Kevin, too young for this.

"It's okay." He had posted the picture with both Andrew and Neil's permission, but his ears still go warm at the realization that everyone has seen it. "I have spent my life living in fear, not knowing what will come day after day if I were to make a single mistake. Not everyone has the most supportive family as I have had with everything that has happened, but family isn't always blood. When I go pro…" He says, looking to his father, to Neil, to Andrew. "I know that the family I chose will stand by me. I know that they were worth every risk and every bruise and every broken bone. To answer your question, I would tell other LGBT+ athletes that who you love shouldn't stand in the way of what you love to do, and vice versa."

He almost laughs at how well everything is going until he catches sight of an actual Raven this time, right in the middle of the crowd, the one from the weight room so long ago. The Raven raises his voice, high enough to carry but not high enough for the other reporters to hear over the clamber for Kevin's attention. "Do you really think you are safe, now that Riko is dead?"

What he doesn't ask is: _ now that the Ravens are, too? _ but Kevin understands the message immediately. He clenches his right hand tightly around his healing left, his mouth suddenly dry. _ Do you really think you are safe? That they won't hunt you? Haunt you? _

Something moves in the corner of his eye, and despite his paralysis, Kevin's body tingles when he sees Neil move his arm back and slam his fist into the Raven's eye. The stands erupt with noise, and Andrew's hand snakes around Kevin's wrist, yanking him towards the locker rooms before anyone notices he's gone. 

When they reach their destination, Kevin can't seem to catch his balance. He stumbles to the bench and sits before his legs can give out beneath him, Andrew's muffled voice finally becoming clearer. "Look at me."

Kevin drags his eyes to a set of hazel ones, swallowing. He distantly hears Neil enter the locker room along with the other Foxes, but he doesn't move. "What?"

"You're okay," Andrew says, tapping two fingers against his racing pulse. "You're okay because I promised I would protect you, did I not? They cannot hurt you anymore."

"You can't—" Kevin begins and inhales sharply so he can gather his thoughts. "You can't do that alone."

"I'm not alone," Andrew replies. He gestures to their teammates, to Neil, and even though he'll never say it aloud, Kevin understands the meaning nonetheless. 

"You also have Stuart's aid." Neil plops down beside him and reaches his arm out, waiting for Kevin's nod. When he receives it from both men, he kisses Andrew's fingers and wraps an arm around Kevin's shoulders. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Kevin falls behind as the Foxes slip out of the back door and to the bus idling in the parking lot. His fist clenches tighter than necessary around the railing as he moves up the steps, the Raven’s face still cemented to the back of his eyelids. He needs to leave, needs to get away from the stadium and the Foxes and the Ravens. Needs to shower and wash away his sins. Needs to find Riko and beg for forgiveness. 

He passes by each seat and forces his hands to stop shaking, counting one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two… until he reaches the far back. On the left, where he normally settles with Neil and Andrew, across from him, is a racquet; worn-down black handle, tight white strings, and a yellow “Day” painted across the handle.

Neil swings his legs over the edge of his seat, moving his gaze between Kevin and the racquet with his mouth pressed into a thin line. “I told you we have your back. Do you want it?” 

Kevin reaches out for his mother’s racquet in disbelief, wrapping his hand around the perfectly fitted handle cautiously, as if it’ll disappear once he looks a little closer. “How… How did you find this? I thought…” _ It was destroyed right in front of me. _

“Stuart stumbled upon it when he was raiding Edgar Allan.” Neil waves his hand as if it’s no big deal. “He’s the one person that has promised justice and has been able to carry it out, so I told him how important the racquet was. He gave it to me without question.”

Kevin sends Neil a watery smile, tilting his head at Andrew. “Did you know about this?”

“And if I did?” Andrew challenges, his voice low, and his eyes unreadable.

“I’d probably kiss you,” Kevin says, leaning back against the seat without waiting for Andrew’s reaction. He stares at the gift in his hands and exhales slowly. Riko had taught him to hate love, and for a long time, Kevin did. The Foxes were his team, but they were different than the Ravens in every aspect. For a long time, Kevin hated how Nicky could wear his pride openly without an ounce of shame. Hated how Renee and Matt didn’t hide their past mistakes or misfortunes. Hated how Allison could leave everything behind even if it meant she didn’t have anyone. Hated how Aaron had worked towards helping others when there hadn’t been many people to help him. Hated how Andrew could offer protection and safety without expecting anything in return. Hated how Neil ran his mouth despite knowing the consequences. Hated… “I never thought I would get anything like this.” _ Like this, with you both by my side. _

“Me neither,” Neil says.

Kevin waits for them to get back to the school. One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three...

—

It’s two hours before they come to a stop at Palmetto, the Foxes exiting the bus single-file and stretching their legs once they step onto the asphalt. Nicky bends over to touch his toes and with his forehead practically touching his shins, yells out a muffled, “Let’s celebrate at Eden’s!”

Aaron shoves his phone in his pocket and shrugs in agreement. The upperclassmen begin heading towards the dorms, but Andrew’s voice surprises all of them. “Do you not want to bond with your team? You complain about it a great deal of the time.”

Despite his mockery, both Matt and Dan smile. Renee gestures towards the building and tucks some of her rainbow-tipped hair behind her ear. “Give us five minutes, Andrew? I need to find an outfit worthy of such an event.”

Allison glances between the two of them as if they just professed their love for each other, but Neil snorts at their jabs. Andrew mutters something in German under his breath without any heat and strides to the Maserati, popping the trunk open to reveal three bags of clothes. He doesn’t say what’s in them, but Kevin guesses they’re the outfits for Eden’s as they make their way to their shared dorm room. 

Nicky disappears to his room with Matt and Aaron while Dan, Renee, and Allison head towards theirs. Kevin unlocks his own door and opens the bag, rifling through the cropped black top and skinny jeans with scrunched eyebrows. 

“Courtesy of Nicky,” Andrew comments.

Kevin snaps his head up and bites his tongue when he realizes Neil and Andrew have already changed. He allows his eyes to wander for a moment, over Neil’s mesh top that reveals a glimpse of his scarred skin, over Andrew’s black t-shirt that hugs his biceps. “You both look good.”

Andrew sends him a deadpan look. “We don’t have all day, Day. Get into the clothes.”  
  


“Unless you need help,” Neil comments, his lips quirking into a smile. Andrew rolls his eyes, but Kevin doesn’t miss the way Andrew’s eyes flick to the items in his hand. 

“Okay,” he says, peeling his jersey off of him. There are what feels like five hundred layers underneath his uniform, but if they’re willing to take them off of him, who is he to complain? “Go ahead.”

Neil reaches out, letting his hands gently travel down to the hem of one of the layers, carefully pulling it off. Neil takes extra care to make sure the fabric doesn’t go anywhere near Kevin’s marred cheek while slipping it off for him. Kevin feels cared for and seen beneath Neil’s cautious hands. His knees weaken with the thought of someone knowing and understanding him so wholly, but he doesn’t care. 

“Hey,” Andrew murmurs, his fingers light as they turn Kevin’s face to meet his. “Yes or no?”

Kevin looks straight into Andrew’s hazel eyes without hesitation. “Yes, Andrew.” 

Andrew moves one hand to Kevin’s hip to bring him closer and uses the hand on his cheek to pull Kevin in for a kiss, Andrew’s tongue running along his lower lip. Kevin reaches out to Neil for support, who shifts closer and ghosts his lips across the hollow of his neck. Kevin shivers and allows them to get closer, the doorknob digging into his back.

With his back pressed against the door and his body caged by Andrew’s and Neil’s, Kevin’s breath finally catches. Riko’s hands are on his shoulders, holding him against the ground, his mouth twisted in a sneer and his eyes filled with bloodlust. Kevin's ears ring with the familiar _ "You'll always be second best!" _ and he can't breathe. _ Trapped. You’re trapped. Riko’s going to kill you. He’s going to kill you and you’ll never— _

“Come back,” Neil whispers.

Kevin doesn’t remember closing his eyes but he opens them immediately to see Andrew and Neil standing three feet away from him, Neil’s mouth twisting with worry and Andrew’s staying in a straight line. He throws on the black ensemble and clears his throat. “I’m okay now. I’m sorry.” _ When it's too much for you, don't hesitate to scream again. _

Andrew’s teeth clench. He pulls his keys from his pocket so he has something to hold onto and twirls them around his index finger. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Kevin nods, Riko’s face dissipating completely. “Can we go? Forget about this and have a good time with our friends?” _ Stop acting like a child. _

Neil doesn’t move. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He needs this, a night out with his family without getting drunk to run away from his thoughts, without Riko’s presence looming over him. “Let me just say bye to Coach.”

He turns and slips out of the door without another word, taking two steps at a time as Riko's echo dies down. Kevin sprints to the parking lot to see if Wymack's car is still there, sighing in relief when he notices his father and Abby inches apart as they talk. 

"Dad," he greets, rubbing the back of his neck; he definitely interrupted the middle of an important conversation. "Um. I just wanted to let you know that the team and I are going to Eden's. We should be back tomorrow afternoon."

Wymack nods, pulling Kevin into a half-hug. "Have fun, call me if you need anything, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Thank you," Kevin says, his back straightening when he hears the rev of the Maserati's engine. "We'll be careful."

Wymack waves goodbye as Kevin gets into the car. His nerves finally settle as Andrew peels out of the parking lot and to their destination, Matt's truck in tow.

—

The thumping in his chest picks up more speed when they get to the club. Andrew flashes the bouncer his ID and the Foxes enter without so much as a second glance. 

Dan and Matt head straight for the dance floor hand in hand, leaving the rest of them to cram into a booth. Allison and Renee glance at each other and then away. Aaron sits next to Andrew with a pensive look on his face. Neil watches the crowd, and Kevin finds himself doing the same. 

"Kev!" Nicky shouts, bopping his head to the bass, "Come dance with me!"

He's danced a total of four times in his life, and to say that he ever did at Edgar Allan would be a lie. "Okay."

So Kevin gets up from the chair at the end of the booth and weaves through the crowd to where Nicky's standing at the edge, hopping around. Kevin's always admired his confidence and the way he was able to become the person he is today. Tonight, he turns heads in a crop top that reads "KANDREIL” in glitter and dark ripped jeans. It takes a second for the gears to turn in Kevin's head, but when he does, he has to stifle a laugh. 

"You doin' okay, sugar?" Nicky tells over the music, wincing at Kevin's attempt to sway. Up close, his eyes are wider, bolder, and Kevin can't quite place why.

"Yeah," he says, and it dawns on him that eyeliner is his answer. The sharp edges, the smooth strokes… It looks good. He wants to ask him about it, ask Nicky if he’ll teach him, but he can’t get the words out of his mouth. For the first time, Kevin wants to stand out and be noticed. When he was with Riko, anything that would have made Kevin more noticeable had been forbidden.

"Erik taught me," Nicky beams, shimmying. He winks at a girl to his right and twirls Kevin around. "I can show you sometime!"

"Okay," Kevin says. He dances. And dances. And if he forgets his own name, forgets his place in the world and his past, then maybe he can't help but feel lighter for just a moment.

—

They end up leaving after two hours, and Kevin has to force his jaw not to drop when Andrew invites them all back to the Columbia house too. The Foxes trudge up the stairs to the guest beds in pairs: Dan and Matt, Allison and Renee, Nicky and Aaron (reluctantly), leaving Neil, Kevin, and Andrew to loiter in the kitchen with a half-pot of coffee.

Kevin eases into a bar stool and exhales, resting his head against his arms on the counter. It's never this awkward. Never this quiet. Maybe this is where they'll say they don't want to be with him anymore. 

"I love you," he says, desperate. He lifts his head and runs his fingers along his thigh, watching them stumble. "I love you both."

Because he's selfish. Because he doesn't want to lose them. Because if they...

"You've mentioned it before," Andrew replies. His brow cocks in irritation, but he doesn't move from his position inches away and he doesn't glare at Neil. 

"I wanted to tell you again." Kevin offers a small smile to the two and shrugs his shoulders. _ They don't want to do this anymore _ . _ It's easier to remain heterosexual, _he hears. He decides to ignore it.

"You don't have to."

Betsy tells him constantly to be more verbal about his thoughts, so he looks at the two men in the dim lighting of the kitchen and swallows the fear in his throat. "I know, but… Do you still want this? Do you still want me the way I want you?”

Neil's eyebrows furrow. Andrew sets his mug down. 

"I don't want anything," Andrew says, but it's too quiet and too apathetic for it to be convincing. He sighs. "What makes you think that?"

"If you're bored of this, I would understand," Kevin comments even though it kills him. "I understand if you don't want to stay together."

"Why do you think we'd let you post that picture of us?" Neil asks, standing up straighter. "Why we promised you safety and our game? Why we went to Evermore to bring you back? Why we stay up with each other when the nightmares are too much? Do you really think anyone else would understand better than us?"

His cheeks flush. "I…" 

"305%," Andrew murmurs, tilting Kevin's chin up from where he's standing. "Yes or no?"

"Yes," Kevin says, warming when Andrew's lips meet his. Andrew's thumbs cup his face, smoothing themselves over his cheeks where one side is still uneven and marred. 

He pulls away so he can return the favor to Neil, the latter of who rests his forehead against Kevin's and whispers, "_ Pas peur _."

_ Pas peur, _with Andrew's hand in his hair. 

_ Pas peur, _with Neil's mouth against his jaw. 

_ Pas peur, _with the Foxes upstairs and his father at his side and his mother watching over him and with the "2" gone forever. 

"_ Pas peur, _ " he replies. **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song at the beginning of this chapter is Do You Remember by Jarryd James (I highly reccomend it!!) & thank you to everyone who waited for the slowwww updates :) can't wait to write more fanfiction for y'all soon
> 
> P.S. (currently writing a novel... if anyone wants to give it a read, message me at @benefactcrr on instagram!)


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